


Goblin Holly-Daze

by HachimansKitsune



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HachimansKitsune/pseuds/HachimansKitsune
Summary: Sarah won't give in to Jareth because she still dreams of romance and not just a roll in the hay with the sexy Goblin King. When she goes away for Christmas, Jareth seeks his mother's advice and finds a whole new perspective on wooing her. But the path to true love never does run smooth- not when there are goblins and vampires involved. J/S centric, cross-over with BtVS. Expect UST, silliness, goblin mayhem and lashings of smut.





	1. Chapter 1

Looking out the open balcony doors of the throne room, Jareth stretched, tossing one leather clad leg over the curved arm of his casual throne and lightly tapped his crystal topped crop against the side of his boot. Lost in his own thoughts, he leaned back, staring at the Labyrinth’s sky which glowed the iridescent pink and orange of the early morning hour. At the realization that the sun was already firmly in the sky, Jareth glanced at the ornately carved, 13-hour clock that hung in the Goblin Throne Room, then frowned as he realized it was nearly 8 in the morning and there wasn’t a goblin to be seen. Ordinarily he might be glad of the respite, but since there were some goblins that practically lived in the throne room, their absence was both notable and worrisome.

“Rene,” he called, looking toward the curtained doorway at the side of the room as the tall elf who served as the chamberlain for the castle slipped into the throne room. Rene strode quietly across the stones, his dark hair pulled back in a long braid that fell over his shoulder and down his chest, appearing glossy against the purple brocade waistcoat that bore the insignia of the Goblin Court.

“Yes, Sire?” Rene asked, stopping at the side of the throne, a leather bound book and quill appearing in his hands.

“Correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t nearly time for the servants and castle minions to break their fast?” Jareth commented in a matter-of-fact tone. Rene nodded, checking the golden pocketwatch hanging from the finely woven chain attached to the deep purple vest he wore over a simple white linen shirt and leather breeches like Jareth’s.

“It is, Sire. The dining hall for staff and minions opened ten minutes ago. I have checked with Aurelia in the kitchen. Most of the Goblin Court members have departed to their homes in preparation for the Yule season at the High Court, so she has arranged for those left to have private breakfast trays taken to their rooms,” Rene replied.

The Goblin King shook his head, unconcerned for the location or breakfast preparations meant for the members of the Goblin Court. To be honest, if he could run the kingdom without the hassle of having to deal with the formalities of having a court, he would be far happier. More troubling was the absence of the castle goblins. Their primary motivation in life was to cause mischief, so to have them unaccounted for was a concern. Twisting his hand, a crystal orb materialized, balancing perfectly upon his fingertips. Inside the orb swirled shimmering mist that slowly faded to show him the servant dining hall bustling with activity as servants enjoyed their breakfast. But like his throne room, the dining hall was missing a key population – goblins.

“What the blazes is going on this morning. Where are my goblins?” Jareth grumbled, his frown deepening as he sat up in the throne. His boots made a hollow thumping sound as they hit the slate stones in front of the throne.  Twisting his hand once more, the view in the crystal changed, showing that the Goblin City was bustling with goblin citizens as it should be, yet except for a few goblin guards doing patrols and the higher ranked goblin staff, the castle minions were missing.

Rene looked thoughtful then pursed his lips, nodding quietly. “I hadn’t thought anything of it, Sire, but you are right. While I completed my morning tasks throughout the castle, I don’t recall seeing any of the goblin horde, which is rather odd actually. I’ve never known them to miss a meal – that’s the one thing they are always on time for.”

Jareth’s pale eyes narrowed as he continued to search the orb for his minions. “Indeed, they are rather like Hobbits that way.”

“You don’t suppose someone has taken them, do you?” Rene asked.

The king shook his head, mystified by the lack of minions throughout the castle and Goblin City. “Not if they had any sense. The minions have no power and their magic is only granted when there is a wisher. Besides, the only thing the little louts are good for is causing trouble.” Despite the fact that the castle horde served no official purpose outside of collecting the wished away, their disappearance worried the king, not that he would ever let them know it.

“Then where could they be?” Rene mused, checking his pocket-watch against the large clock on the wall, the ticking sound seeming far too loud in the empty throne room.

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, a rag-tag group of goblins burst through the heavy wooden doors of the throne room, grinning inanely and dancing as they sang – loudly and unfortunately, off-key. Some had ropes of brightly colored fluffy tinsel wrapped around their necks like scarves, others had thin strands of tinsel draped atop their helms. One was wearing a furry red mitten on his head like a hat, with a fluffy white chicken feathers stuck to his chin with what appeared to be tar. Rene blinked in disbelief, while the Goblin King leaned forward, his chin resting upon his hand as he watched the group move further into the room.

“Sex rhymes….SEX rhymes….SEX RHYMES! Tapping that…hitting that…make the beast that has two backs,” several of them sang, only to have the skinny little goblin wearing the mitten hat and feathers on his face smack two of them up the back of the head and shout.

“No… no beasties has two backs!” he protested, then muttered. “Get it right.”

“Fireys can have two backs…two fronts too,” one of the giggled, as two more continued to sing. “Knocking boots, rooting down…”

“King gots boots…lets go get some,” one of the mob piped up. The others apparently thought this was an excellent idea as they veered off course toward the side door of the throne room that led toward the main hall.

“Bumping uglies, fool around…” continued the singers as they danced and wiggled across the throne room.

“Youz ugly,” laughed Splut, only to be shoved by Dent who protested. “No…you iz!”

“Choking chicken….” Shouted the ‘singers’ as they gave up on any pretence of actual singing.

“Why they choke chickens? Chickens is good…” questioned Meep, pushing a mess of silvery tinsel out of his face while trying to avoid running into Dent who had been knocked over by Splut.

“Cuz the chickens likes it,” suggested Splut, as he tried to kick Dent only to howl when he missed and kicked the stone step in front of the throne.

And still the ‘singers’ shouted, wiggling their hips in a lewd display, made even more disturbing when Jareth realized that one of the group appeared to have a small red flannel stuffed elf stuck down the front of his trousers, the body of the toy flopping up and down with each thrust of the goblins hips.

“Flicking bean, DTF, DP and CBT, ATM, Bondage and discipline, scissoring, S&M, masturbation, gagging, facial….”

“Scissors doan work…use a knife,” added Blot, despite the fact that he was shouted down by the singers, who seemed to be getting louder with each added ‘verse’. “Fisting and spanking and an enema with cham-pag-kneee, gooey, hoo-ha ah…whips and chains… underwater gangbang!!”

Finally realizing what the goblins were shouting, Jareth stood and roared, “ENOUGH!!!”

As one the goblins froze, googly eyes blinking silently at their king.

Jareth glared at them, his usually pale eyes black. “ ** _What_** are you doing?!” demanded, the Goblin King, stalking toward the huddled bunch of goblins, waves of irritation pouring off him.

“Singing,” replied Blot as if the answer was perfectly obvious.

Frowning, Jareth shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control his mounting anger. Ordinarily he would have bogged the lot of them for a fortnight and been done with it, but if he did that, he’d never find out where they learned a song of such a ‘dubious’ nature.

“First of all, what you idiots do isn’t ‘singing’ by _any_ stretch of the imagination,” Jareth growled, pleased when several of the goblins shrunk back from him, leaving the one wearing the mitten hat and feathers on his face to be the spokes-goblin for the group. “Just _what_ is that song you are singing?”

“Sex Rhymes,” explained the mitten-wearing goblin, who Jareth recalled was named Snot. “Iz Santy Claws song.”

At that, Jareth arched an eyebrow in surprise. Given that his duty was to collect wished away mortals, he was familiar with their customs, holidays and slang. This song however, was new to him.  “I may be unfamiliar with some of the terms used in that ‘song’ you were bellowing, but many of them are known to me, and I can assure you, it has _nothing_ to do with Santa Clause.”

“Yes it does,” protested Blot, then poked the one wearing the mitten. “Tell him.”

The grey goblin wearing the mitten stood up straighter, with his hands on his hips. “Uh huh! Sarah said she’s packing for Santy Claws trip…and listening to musics.”

Sarah.

That explained some of it, but Jareth had his doubts as to her teaching them such an inappropriate song. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time she taught them something obnoxious in order to torment him. He frowned slightly as his mind vividly recalled when she taught the goblins Nanny Ogg’s favourite song about the wizard’s knob. Jareth bit his lip to suppress the dark grin at the memory of Sarah showing up drunk in his study singing that song at the top of her lips and making lewd suggestions about _his_ wizard’s knob. Knave though he may be, even he wouldn’t dare take advantage of her in that state, although he would have dearly loved to see the look on her face when she saw what _his_ did when rubbed.

Jareth shook his head and stood up. “Get out of my sight,” he ordered, waving the goblins away. As they scattered, he frowned again and grabbed the nearest one, who just happened to be the one wearing the mitten on his head. “You said Sarah is packing? Why?”

The goblin merely shrugged. “Dunno… she says she gots to go on holly daze. But I din see no holly in her suitcase.”

Sighing at the uselessness of his minions, Jareth dropped Snot to the stone floor, not even noticing when he skittered away after his mates. “Rene… I’ll be gone for a few hours,” the Goblin King said, pulling a glowing purple orb from the air and dropping it at his feet where it burst in a swirl of purple smoke.

Rene sighed and watched as the smoke cleared, the fine sheen of glitter still hanging in the air being the only sign that the Goblin King had been there only moments before. From down the hall he could hear the goblins starting up their ‘singing’ once more, this time attempting a round with half of them singing this ‘Sex Rhymes’ song and the other half shouting about the wizard’s knob.

“It’s going to be a long day,” he muttered as he left the throne room.

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

**Author’s Note:** And there you go… the first chapter. You can expect another chapter in a couple of days. Since I am limiting my writing time while trying to get my writing mojo back, the chapters for this story will be on the short side.

Also…Yes, the song in this chapter is a real thing. ‘Sex Rhymes’ is a new song by Schaffer the Darklord (on the EP of the same name). It’s hysterical. You can listen to it on YouTube if you want to hear the whole thing.

As to ’50 Shades of Fey’…I will get back to writing on that one eventually. I’ve got about 4 new story ideas these days, which may get written while I work on getting my ’50 Shades’ mojo back. J


	2. Chapter 2

**Author’s Note:** This chapter is a little silly, a little sad and a little sweet. Stick with me…from here on out the UST and romance kicks up ;)

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

 

To say Sarah’s room was the picture of chaos would be an understatement – it was more like chaos, wrapped in entropy and stuffed in the mess of a million black holes exploding at once. Every flat surface (and a few non-flat surfaces as well) had goblins perched on them. The grey-green forms were wearing their usual hodge-podge of armor discarded from the proper goblin armor of the Goblin Kingdom army. On top of their usual mish-mash of clothing, armor and (oddly enough) kitchen cooking implements, the castle horde was bedecked with a variety of colored tinsel ropes, silvery tinsel strands and even the odd ornament swiped from the Christmas tree in Sarah’s lounge room.

The bizarre combination of festive wear and discarded bits and pieces alone wouldn’t have been chaotic, but add in the fact that half of them were singing (shouting) at the top of their lungs, while the other half bickered, and the overall din could have deafened the door knockers ten times over.

As it was, Sarah was trying to tune them out while she scrambled to finish packing before her father arrived to take her to the airport. She hadn’t wanted to go away for Christmas this year, but her step-mother Karen and her father had been given a last minute gift of a Mediterranean cruise from Karen’s parents. Karen and her father had been happy to purchase a ticket for Sarah, since Karen’s parents had (yet again) excluded her… but Karen’s parents had reacted badly to that idea, suggesting that Sarah wasn’t ‘really’ part of the family.

While Sarah would have liked to have been with her brother and parents for Christmas, she didn’t want to cause trouble with her step-mother’s family. Her father had tried to arrange for her to spend the holiday with her mother, but Linda and Jeremy were off in Turkey doing a movie shoot. So, for yet another year, Sarah planned to spend the holiday on her own in her little flat. At least that was the plan before her father had called her the morning of her last exam for the semester, to tell her that her great aunt Celeste heard what had happened, and had insisted that Sarah come to New Orleans and spend the holiday with her.

Sarah wasn’t silly. At 22, spending the holiday alone in a flat in New York would be cold and lonely. She wasn’t about to turn down a holiday in New Orleans with her eccentric old great aunt -- which was why she was currently fighting to round up her favourite outfits for the trip. She frowned, green eyes narrowing as she scanned the room, trying to remember where she had last seen her red shoes. “I know I wore them yesterday,” she muttered to herself as her pink sweater came hurtling past, draped over the gnarled form of Gabby, a tiny female goblin. “Thanks Gabs…now can you find my other red shoe?” she asked, before quickly folding the fluffy pink angora sweater and tucking it into her open suitcase.

Gabby nodded, the pink stocking cap on her head bobbing cheerfully. Without a word the little goblin darted under the bed after the missing shoe, her garish neon yellow dress disappearing beneath the bedskirt – not deterred in the least by the two goblins sprawled under the bed playing wizard’s dice. Her beloved Lady Sarah had asked for her help and Gabby wasn’t going to let anything stop her.

“Oi! No cheating,” howled one of the dice players when Gabby shoved past them, sending the dice rolling out from under the bed and into the room. “Iz not cheating…you is!” protested the other gambling goblin.

Of course only Sarah and Gabby seemed interested in packing the brown leather suitcase open on the bed, the rest of the castle horde were too busy ‘singing’.

_“Ohhhhh…really my boy, do you truly not know?_

_As a wizard stores power ‘is knob starts to grow._

_Without it you can’t get the magic to flo-o-o-ooooow._

_You just tap on the end and there out your spell… BLOOOOOOOWS!”_

 

Sarah rolled her eyes, finding herself regretting that she ever taught them that song. “Guys… GUYS!” she shouted over the din.  When the ‘singing’ continued, she placed her hands on her hips and bellowed, “OI! SHUT UP OR I’LL BOG YOU!” Reluctantly the horde stopped shouting the lyrics and blinked at her.

 

“We wuz just singin,” pouted Blurt, shoving his colander helmet back up his head from where it had slid down over his eyes due to the weight of the Christmas ornaments now clipped to it.

 

“Yes… I _heard_ your singing. If it weren’t for the soundproofing that Jareth put on my flat, everyone in a five-mile radius would have heard your ‘singing,” Sarah laughed, plucking tinsel from the inside of the red shoe that Gabby handed her. “Why must you sing _that_ song though? You know the king hates it.”

 

At that the goblins giggled maniacally, until Sarah had to chuckle. She really shouldn’t complain since she taught them that song specifically because it would drive Jareth crazy.

“You want us to sing sumtin else, Ladeee Sarah?” asked a tiny little orange-brown goblin, perched on her window sill, wearing the leopard print Santa hat that Sarah’s roommate had given her before leaving for her own home. Sarah smiled at Smidge, who bobbed her head agreeably, making the tinsel and beaded garland draped around and over her long pointed ears, wiggle and sway.

“Please… anything else,” Sarah nodded, turning toward her suitcase once more and taking the bra Gabby was holding up to her.

In hindsight, she really should have known better than to phrase things so carelessly. Given that they adored Sarah (and the chocolate she frequently plied them with), the goblin horde were happy to oblige her request and changed songs, ‘singing’ once more with their customary enthusiasm.

“Do the no-pants-dance…tubesteak boogie…horizontal mambo…getta bitta nookie…hot beef injection…hide the salami…” they shouted merrily, not stopping even when Snot howled and waved a gnawed on salami roll around. “Iz found it under Cook’s bed!!” The rest continued to sing, “A bit of the old in-and-out…organ origami…”

 

Sarah groaned, starting to regret teaching them this song. Before she could open her mouth to demand that they cease and desist with their ‘singing’, a pair of warm arms slid around her, slender gloved hands deftly plucking the pink satin and black lace bra from her hands.

 

“Really, Precious… if you wanted me to come and give you the ‘seeing to’ that you so clearly need, you needn’t teach my minions such ‘suggestive’ songs,” Jareth purred in her ear.

 

The feel of his heated breath against her ear made her shiver. Sarah’s brain short-circuited, torn between the way Jareth dangled her favourite ‘sexy’ bra from his leather clad fingers and the fact that his other hand was resting warmly upon her stomach. Her silence was met with an amused chuckle from the Goblin King, who pulled her closer so that her back and bum molded themselves against his (very) masculine form. His lips grazed the tender skin under her ear in the barest of kisses, which made her knees wobble. It wasn’t until she felt the hand on her stomach creep downward that Sarah pulled herself from her frozen state with a squeak.

 

“Jareth! Damnit it! You promised not to just ‘poof’ into my space anymore,” Sarah snapped, jerking out of his embrace, before snatching the bra from his fingers and hastily stuffing it into her suitcase and dropping a pair of jeans on top of it, as if to hide the incriminating article of lingerie.

 

The Goblin King glared at the goblins sprawled across Sarah’s bed, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Unless you want to spend the next week doing laps of the bog, I suggest you lot clear out and get back to the castle where you belong,” he snarled.

 

The dubious ‘singing’ stopped with a strangled squawking sound, as the goblins snapped their mouths shut.  A moment later the room was filled with strange popping noises as many of them disapparated back to the castle.  A few of the bigger goblins (who had problems with reappearing embedded in castle walls due to their size) decided it was safer to use the portal at the back of her closet. In racing for the portal, they narrowly missed Gabby as she trotted back out of the closet with a stack of Sarah’s underwear. Gabby spun around with a squeak, the towering stack of neatly folded knickers wobbling dangerously, before she stopped and glared at the burly goblins rushing past her. “Stupid gobs…” she muttered then continued toward Sarah, hopping onto the bed only to have the Goblin King grab the stack of underwear and eye it with a wicked grin.

 

“Really, darling… you don’t need to bother packing anything to spend the holidays with me. Your bare flesh will be festive enough,” he purred, giving her a suggestive wink.

 

‘Yes!’ squealed her libido, flashing up images of the one and only time she and Jareth had be intimately involved. Sarah felt her body flush at the memory. It was only the one time and she swore it would _never_ happen again. Yes…he was good (‘Very good,’ purred her libido). But that was just it, he was good. It was all sex with him.

 

Growling in frustration, Sarah snatched her underwear back and dumped them unceremoniously into her suitcase, before jerking the lid shut. Flopping down next to the bag she looked at Jareth, the irritation fading from her eyes as she sighed. “Jareth, we’ve been over this. I’m not going to fall into bed with you.”

 

“There’s always the rug in front of the hearth. It’s very soft,” quipped Jareth, draping himself across the foot of her bed and blowing her a kiss.

 

Sarah shook her head, running her hand through her hair to push it back from her face. “I’m being serious Jareth. That was a one time thing. I need more than just sex.” At the puzzled look on Jareth’s face, Sarah sighed. “ I want love….”

 

“You know I love you,” he started to protest, only to be cut off by a sad shake of Sarah’s head.

 

“I know you _think_ you love me, but really Jareth, all you ever do is make suggestive comments about getting me back into your bed. I want a man who wants _all_ of me…” she continued.

 

“Nonsense, you know I want all of you,” countered Jareth with a dismissive wave of his hand.

 

Rolling her eyes, Sarah reached over and started to zip up her overstuffed suitcase. “Case in point…I’m being serious and you’re still throwing innuendos around. I want someone who loves me…will romance me… who will give me my dreams.”

 

Jareth leaned toward her, gently caressing Sarah’s cheek, “Precious, I _am_ your dreams.”

 

Sarah frowned and turned away from his caress. Rising from the bed, she began to scoop up her toiletries and drop them into the backpack on her bed. Finally she stopped in front of her vanity, her eyes closing as she felt a pang of sadness tighten around her heart. “No… not anymore,” she muttered quietly. “I need more than a fairy tale King who only wants to get in my pants.”

 

Seeing the look of sadness upon her face, Jareth rose from the bed and came up behind her, his hands gently falling upon her shoulders. “Sarah….?”

 

“I don’t want to banish you from my life again, Jareth, but you have to understand… I need more than what you have offered….” She began, still not looking at his reflection in the mirror.

 

“I offered you myself and my kingdom, woman,” Jareth replied, his pale eyes darkening as he watched her. “What more do you want?!” he demanded.

 

Shaking her head, Sarah opened her eyes, capturing his in the mirror. “If you don’t know the answer to that, then you don’t know me at all, Jareth,” she said, sniffing quietly. Sarah turned around, her hands coming up to rest against his chest, the gesture at once tender and mournful. “I’m going away for the holidays. Maybe you should use this time to _really_ think about whether you want me or just the ‘idea’ of me. Because at the moment, we don’t want the same things and I refuse to compromise on my dreams. I didn’t compromise the first time. I won’t do it now.” Looking at his ethereally handsome face, she smiled to herself, seeing the scheming flash in his silvery eyes. “I know what you are thinking, Jareth and I want your vow that you will _not_ use your crystals to find me or check up on me. No contact unless I initiate it, until after New Years.”

 

At first he looked offended, but she pinned him with a knowingly stern stare. Still puzzled by her words, Jareth finally nodded. “Fine,” he muttered, his mind ticking over which members of the castle horde he would send to keep an eye on her.

 

As if reading his mind Sarah shook her head, “And the horde can’t spy on me for you either,” she added.

 

“You are marked by my kingdom, Precious,” Jareth replied, his gloved thumb lightly tracing the small Labyrinth-shaped mark near her collarbone. He had not realized the Labyrinth had marked her in such a way until she had turned 18 and he could reenter her life without her needing to make a wish. The first time he saw the mark his heart faltered in his chest. For the Labyrinth to mark her meant that she was more than just the Champion, she was the slated Queen. It frustrated him endlessly that Sarah refused to acknowledge it.

 

“It’s just a mark…” Sarah began, trying to shrug away from Jareth’s hands, which tightened, holding her in place.

 

“No, love. It is the mark of she who is destined to be the Labyrinth Queen…destined to be _my_ Queen,” he said.

 

“I spoke to the Wise Man, Jareth. I know that the mark makes me the Labyrinth’s Queen by right of Conquest. It has fuck all to do with being the Goblin Queen. Those are two separate offices,” she said, her own finger caressing the swirls across the front of the Goblin King’s medallion of office. “And it is because I am the Labyrinth’s Queen that I’ll allow a _small_ contingent of the horde to come on vacation with me. But I was serious…I want your vow…you won’t spy on me and they are _not_ to report to you either.”

 

Jareth’s frown deepened. This was certainly not going as he had hoped. “But…”

 

“No ifs…no ands…no buts… swear it, Jareth,” Sarah said, her green eyes boring into his with a stern glare.

 

“As you wish,” Jareth grumbled with a petulant pout.

 

“No… swear it…I need the full vow,” Sarah insisted, inwardly pleased at the slightly sheepish look on Jareth’s face when he realized she knew he was trying to find a way to weasel out of making the vow. “I know you. Any loophole you can find you’ll take, Goblin King. So I want your vow.”

 

The moment she addressed him by his title, Jareth fully realized just how serious she was. “Fine…I, Jareth Tuatha de Dannan give you, Sarah Williams, Queen of the Labyrinth my honor-bound vow. I will not spy upon you during your holiday vacation nor will I have my minions spy upon you. They may accompany you as your guard, but will only report to me if you are in danger.”

 

At that Sarah softened a bit, giving him a quiet smile. “Thank you, Jareth,” she whispered, then leaned up and tenderly kissed his cheek.

 

“I do love you, you know,” he whispered back, his cheek pressed against hers as he pulled her into a gentle hug.

 

“In your way, perhaps,” Sarah sighed, trying to ignore the pulse of want that thrummed through her at the feel of his body against hers. “But… it’s not enough. Not anymore, Jareth.”

 

The shrill ringing of Sarah’s front doorbell interrupted the quiet truce. “That will be Dad. I’ve got to go, Jareth,” she said, pulling out of his embrace and picking up her winter coat from the bed. Without another word to him, she grabbed her purse, her backpack and the heavy leather suitcase and headed out the bedroom door, then out the apartment, leaving a confused Goblin King in her wake.

 

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

She had been watching him for over an hour and he had not moved an inch. In fact, if it weren’t for the slight movement of his shoulders with each breath, she would have thought that the Goblin King were not alive at all, but merely a statue. He stood on the shore of Lake Criostal, the late afternoon sun making his silvery hair seem to glow with deep pink and orange. Most people thought the Goblin King was a ruthless ruler and heartless cad, but Titiania knew better.

 

“What vexes you, my boy?” she asked quietly, her long silken skirts making gentle swishing noises over the grass as she moved forward to stand beside him.

 

Jareth glanced at her, then sighed, turning his attention back to the shimmering surface of the lake. “Good afternoon, Madame,” he said, his usually melodic voice dull and lifeless.

 

Titania smiled softly, watching the young king carefully. “If it were a _good_ afternoon, you wouldn’t be standing here looking for all the world like a lost child, Jareth,” she said gently. “What’s bothering you?”

 

The silence stretched between them, before he finally murmured, “She thinks I do not really love her.”

 

“The Labyrinth Champion?” Titania asked, gazing at him with violet eyes. “Sarah was it?”

 

Jareth’s nodded, his shoulders slumping in a way few had ever seen. “The Labyrinth has marked her as its queen, an office she has come to accept although she has no wish to take it up formally at this point,” he said, running a hand fretfully through his hair, until the wispy strands stood even more wildly than usual. “Despite this, she refuses to consider being my Queen, no matter how many times I bring the matter up.”

 

“What does she say, my dear?” questioned Titiana, turning to brush strands of hair from his face.

 

“She says she wants more,” he muttered, then raised his pale eyes to those of the High Queen, surprising her with the show of emotion in them. “But I’ve offered her my kingdom and myself. What more can she possibly want of me?”

 

Titiana gently patted her step-son’s cheek. “Mortal women are a mystery to most Fae males, my boy. Just look at the problems your father has had and he cheats by beguiling them. At least you are trying to be honest with the girl and seek her heart without tricks.”

 

Jareth’s pursed his lips in frustration. “Not that it has done me any good. Sarah still rejects me. She has even banished me from seeing her until after the New Year begins.”

 

The High Queen smiled warmly at her favourite step-child. Growing up he had resented her, which was to be expected since his father had taken him from the woman who bore him, in order to raise him within the royal household. Yet over time, she had learned that underneath the stand-offish exterior was a young man who craved understanding and love, something he would never be given by his father, whose sole interest was in seeing his son be trained in the ways of kingship. Titania had done her best to break through the angry façade of the young Fae, and had been rewarded with getting to see more of his true emotions than any other person in his life – with the exception of Sarah Williams.

 

“Sometimes, Jareth… when faced with issues of the heart and the pain they cause, what a lad needs is the counsel of his _real_ mother,” she said with a knowing nod.

 

Reaching out, Jareth grasped her hand and raised it to his lips. “Madame…you _are_ my mother in all but name. You know I mean you no slight.”

 

Smiling she grasped his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Shush, my sweet child. I know that. However, since you are banished from Sarah, why not go spend the holidays with your mother and seek her help? She would be glad of the visit I am sure, since Oberon has banished her from visiting the Court. I know she misses you.”

 

Jareth sighed as a wave of guilt washed over him. In truth it had been far too long since he had thought to visit his mother. “What about the Yule Court in Avalon? The last time I missed it, Father refused to speak to me for the next decade.” he asked.

 

Titania shrugged and rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry about the Court season, my boy. Your father is too wrapped up in his new paramour to notice your absence. If it comes up, I’ll make appropriate excuses on your behalf. Go…visit your mother and seek her counsel. After all, who better to advise you in the proper way to woo a mortal, than a mortal. Well…one who was once a mortal and still lives among them.”

 

Silently Jareth looked back at the lake, watching gentle ripples run from the center to the pale pink sand of the shore, the water glowing with orange light as the sun began to sink below the horizon. It had been at least five years since he had visited his mother and even more since had spent the Yule holidays in the Aboveground.

 

“Thank you, Madame,” he finally said, turning to Titania and smiling at her. Leaning in, he tenderly kissed her cheek. “And never forget, while you may not be my mother by birth, you are always the mother of my heart.”

 

Titania’s heart swelled with adoration at his words. In that split moment she saw the ghost of the small boy he once was, curled in her lap sobbing over the cruel words of his father. No matter the façade he wore for others, she saw him for the tender-hearted boy he was and the strong man he had become. Even as he disappeared in a haze of shimmering golden glitter, she smiled. “My boy,” she whispered. “It’s up to you now, Vivienne. Counsel him well so that he can see the error of his ways before it is too late.”

 

Humming, Titania strolled back toward the castle, idly wondering if it was too soon to start embroidering baby clothes.

 

 

 


	3. Poor Decisions Abound

Staring into the glowing blue liquid in the small crystal shot glass, Jareth growled inwardly. _Why must women be so damned annoying…._  In truth, it wasn’t _all_ women who frustrated him, but rather one 22 year old mortal.

 

Sarah.

 

Jareth wanted nothing more than to forget the misery he had seen in her emerald eyes pools as she told him he was not enough for her – which was why he was currently trying to work his way single-handedly through the Black Pullet Pub’s entire stock of Dragon’s Tears Whiskey. So far it was working, he couldn’t feel his feet. A few more glasses and he should cease to feel anything from the hips down and it would only be a few more glasses after that before any thought in his head should cease to form…at least until the hangover kicked in (but he wasn’t willing to think that far ahead).

 

Still looking into the blue liquid, Jareth swirled it slowly in the small glass, _watching_ small bubbles burst against the clear glass. _I offered her everything I have…even myself…what more does the silly girl need?_... he muttered to himself, then downed the glowing blue liquid in one gulp. As he swallowed it, his body was suffused with a shimmering blue light that slowly faded into his skin, leaving a bright blue ring around the irises of his eyes.  Jareth grunted as the drink burned its way down his throat, then flipped the small glass upside down on the bar with a solid ‘clinking’ sound. 

 

The bartender picked up the bottle of Dragon’s Tears Whiskey and turned Jareth’s glass right side up, before filling it for the fourth time that evening – he’d only seen a customer drink six shots of this without ending up passed out on the floor, and he really hoped he wasn’t going to have to call for the palace guards to take the High Prince back to his rooms. 

 

“Good evening dear cousin,” chuckled a voice from Jareth’s left.

 

Jareth didn’t even bother to look at the newcomer, instead waving a gloved hand at the bartender. “Set him up, Wal,” he said, tapping the bar in front of him with a sharp rap of his knuckles. Wal plucked a clean glass from the neat stack at the back of the bar and set it in front of the newcomer, then filled it with the glowing blue whiskey. “And leave the bottle,” added Jareth, his own glass now in his fingers as he once more contemplated the glowing fluid.

 

“My my my…don’t you look like something a gwenwynig expelled from her fourth stomach,” laughed the dark-haired fae as he slid onto the stool next to Jareth. He wore his onyx hair long, with a single plait flowing down each side of his face and clipped at the back of his head with a simple leather thong. His eyes were deep, almost luminous green, which stood out in sharp contrast to the stark solid black clothing he wore.

 

“Get bent, Puck,” Jareth growled in response, then downed his shot. As the drink scorched its way to his stomach, Jareth sighed deeply, enjoying the burning sensation.

 

Puck tisked softly, “Not much of a greeting, Princeling.” Picking up the glass, he threw his own shot down his throat before spluttering a moment. “Damn, that first shot of Dragon’s Tears never gets any easier,” he wheezed, then coughed, clapping Jareth on the shoulder.

 

“You’re four behind,” said Jareth, his words slightly slurred. He picking up the bottle and poured Puck another shot.

 

Taking his full glass once more, Puck saluted Jareth with it. “Never let it be said that I let my favourite cousin drink himself into a coma alone,” he quipped with a cheeky grin, then threw back the shot before slamming the glass upside down on the counter and hissing against the burn of the liquid. “So…are you going to tell me why we are drinking?”

 

With a sigh Jareth turned both glasses right-side up once more and refilled them, before sliding them in front of Puck and nodding to Wal who was wiping down glasses behind the bar. “Better bring us two growlers of Goblin Stout too.”

 

Looking at Jareth, Puck arched an eyebrow, his mouth twisting in a wicked grin. “Ahh…Dragon’s Tears with Goblin Stout as a chaser? Must be woman problems,” he chuckled, downing his third shot. “And since we know that the mighty Goblin King’s family jewels have ballads written about them, and his libido is the stuff of legends in the ladies solar, just what sort of female problem could have driven him to attempt to drink himself into the Summerlands prematurely?”

 

“Have I ever told you that you’re too damn perky about the misery of others,” grumbled Jareth, gripping the handle of large carved mug that Wal had set in front of him. Jareth blew the foam from the top of the gigantic mug before taking a deep drink from it, relishing the way the numbness from the whiskey seemed to spread faster with the addition of the Goblin Stout. If there was one thing his goblins were good at, it was brewing.

 

Puck gave a dark grin and nodded happily, “That’s why your dear father keeps me around, cousin. It certainly isn’t for my witty repartee`.” Letting Jareth glare broodily into his stout, Puck finished off his fourth shot, then chased it with a long drink of stout. When he finished he licked the trace of foam from his upper lip and looked at Jareth, surprised at the way the room already seemed to swim at borders of his vision. “Blasht,” Puck muttered, blinking to focus more clearly on Jareth. “I forgot…”

 

“…that you can’t out drink me?” Jareth chuckled, pouring himself another shot of the whiskey.

 

Puck gave a quiet laugh as Jareth sloshed some of the glowing liquid onto the bar. “Yesh… So…wutzher name?” he asked, taking another drink of his stout.

 

“Sarah,” sighed Jareth, frowning at the glass of whiskey. “She’s rejected me…”

 

“Again?” came the incredulous reply from Puck as he wobbled slightly on his barstool, before balancing carefully by holding onto the bar with one hand and grabbing his mug in the other.

 

“Still,” grumbled Jareth, then downed his sixth shot, the numbness spreading further up his torso.

 

Blinking, Puck reached out and clapped one of the two Jareth’s he could see on the shoulder. “Tough breaksh, ole’man,” he said, his tongue feeling vaguely numb. “Whatchoo need is distraction.”

 

Jareth shrugged, sipping his stout. “The Queen has suggested that I forgo the ‘family’ festivities here and spend the Yule season above with mother. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

 

“Fanshee…fanthe…fancy some company?” stuttered Puck, narrowing his eyes and smiling when he was back down to seeing only one Jareth.

 

“Won’t you be missed at Yule Court?” Jareth asked, already knowing the answer. After the scene Puck had caused the year before, he had become hobgoblin non-grata at Court for ‘high court’ functions. Frowning Jareth tried not to think about the unfairness of it – after all father put Puck up to his prank, then punished him for doing exactly as he was asked.

 

“Nah… Over…Auber…Ober…Yer Father ish too busy with the…wutzherface…Elfling…” Puck said, nearly sliding off his stool before Jareth reached out to steady him.

 

Looking at his cousin and long-time partner in mischief making, Jareth smiled and nodded. Perhaps Puck was right and a distraction (preferably of the feminine persuasion) would be best. “Sure. Come along. Mother always did have a soft spot for you,” he said, pouring himself another shot of the whiskey. “Of course, there’s no accounting for taste…after all, she fell for my father too.”

 

Puck blearily smiled at Jareth, while the fair-haired Fae king raised his glass of glowing blue liquid, then downed it in one gulp. “To distraction!”

 

 

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

 

Hoggle pulled the heavy door open, then grunted as the squad of already inebriated goblin soldiers he was guiding barged past him and into the crowded pub. He rolled his eyes at the way the group of goblins were weaving and wobbling across the floor, before they dropped into chairs around a large table in the corner.  Glancing at the table, he was somewhat relieved to see that there wasn’t a chair for him. He’d been saddled with the louts all day and was sick of them. What he really wanted was to be tucked up in his little cottage by the garden, with a mug of tea and a bit of stew, instead of guiding a squad of goblin soldiers around the Worker’s District of Avalon on a pub crawl. But, there was nothing for it; this was the price he had to pay to get their help in making his Yule delivery to the High Queen.

 

“No seat for me, lads…I’ll just grab a seat at the bar and have them send over a pitcher for ya,” Hoggle said to the squad leader.

 

“Send two,” demanded one of the soldiers, his bulbous nose red from the amount of alcohol already in his body.

 

“Make that three,” added another, as he pinched the bum of a passing waitress who squeaked in outrage before belting the offending soldier upside the head with her wooden tray. The dull clanging sound of her tray meeting his helmet set the other squad members off, laughing and roaring their approval.

 

“You’ll get what I order ya and not a bit more,” grumbled Hoggle as he dodged other patrons and moved toward the bar.

 

Seeing Jareth seated at the bar, Hoggle groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the Goblin King after Sarah had banished him, but he wasn’t about to sit with the goblins either. He paused and looked around, then growled under his breath, “Wonderful… just soddin terrific. Either deal with the rat or sit with a pack of idiots.” Given the choice, Hoggle figured one drunk rat would be easier to deal with than a bunch of drunk goblins.

 

Hoggle pulled out a barstool and had to use both hands to pull his stocky frame up onto the tall stool, all the while hoping against hope that the Goblin King might not even notice him. Breathing in the thick scent of Dragon’s Tears whiskey and Goblin Stout, Hoggle thought for brief moment he might get lucky, since those two drinks combined were well-known as the ‘Fae Coma Cocktail’.

 

Then Jareth turned his head in Hoggle’s direction.

 

“Hogshwart,” the Goblin King muttered, his pale eyes bloodshot and rimmed in red.

“It’s Hoggle! And you bloody well know it,” Hoggle grumped, only to blink in stunned amazement when Jareth rapped on the scarred wooden bar with his knuckles. “Give the dwarf here a growler of the stout.”

 

Swallowing thickly, Hoggle eyed Jareth warily, clearly trying to figure out if there was a catch. Jareth had never offered to give him as much as a dirty sock. “Gaw… you doan hafta do that, Sire,” he mumbled, looking at the large mug of stout that Wal slid in front of him.

 

“We’re drinking to a Yule without the infuriating influensh of Sharah,” Jareth said, dispensing with his shot glass and drinking straight from the glowing blue bottle now.

 

Hoggle rolled his eyes and shook his head as he picked up the mug and took a bracing drink of the thick, dark stout inside it. He’d heard what Sarah told Jareth and the vow she’d forced him to give, and he thought she was doing the right thing. Jareth was Jareth… so he was a rat, even if he was the king. And Hoggle, even though he was bound by duty to obey the king (usually), was convinced that despite what the Labyrinth was clearly trying to engineer by declaring Sarah the Labyrinthian Queen, Sarah could do better. So, even though he knew what Sarah _really_ wanted, he wasn’t about to make it easy for Jareth -- it wasn’t his place.

 

After taking another long drink, Hoggle paused and gave Jareth a frustrated glare, “Y’know what yer problem is…ya doan listen. Not to yer subjects. Not to yer father. Not even ta Sarah…an _she’s_ the one you should most be listinin to!”

 

Jareth slammed the now empty whiskey bottle back down on the bar and let go of it, sending it rolling off the side of the bar to shatter on the floor, just as the goblin squad behind them burst into song.

 

_“Ohhhh... a wizards staff has a knob on the end…_

_And runes run up the shaft…_

_It’s long and proud and stiff and loud…_

_It’s the pride of wizardcraft!...”_

 

Turning his head with some difficulty, Jareth blinked owlishly at the goblin soldiers, then looked back at Hoggle, his expression hard despite his difficulty in forcing his eyes to focus on the dwarf. “Whatchoo mean, Hogshbreath?” he demanded, then smacked his lips as he tried to get his tongue to work better to form words.

 

“Sarah’s _told_ you what she wants, ya fool! But cuz it ain’t what you wanna hear you doan listen! That’s yer problem,” Hoggle groused, then took another deep pull of his stout.

 

“Blashted woman hasn’t told me an..an..anythunk of ther short,” Jareth protested, rubbing his eyes to eliminate the duplicate Hoggle that appeared superimposed on the first one. “Make the second you go’way,” he demanded of the dwarf. “One Hogsshort ish moooore than enough.”

Angry now, Hoggle took a big gulp of the drink, letting it fortify his courage as he glared at his king, “Romance you idiot! She wants to be _loved_ …not be treated like one of your…your…floozies….”he shouted, only to be interrupted by Puck.

 

“You sure ‘ees a dwarf?” slurred Puck, peering at Hoggle around Jareth’s mug. “ ‘Eee looks like a Hobbitz to me.”

 

Distracted now, Jareth’s eyes narrowed as he peered closely at Hoggle. “Y’know… ‘ee could be a hob…hob…Hobbitziz,” he mumbled. “ ‘Eee does like to eat like ‘em. But… Hobbitziz are hairy.”

 

“Only on their feetz,” said Puck, wobbling on his stool as he craned to look at Hoggle’s feet. “Take yer bootsh off, Hogswurm. “Let’s sheee yer feetz!”

 

Cocking his head, Jareth gave Hoggle a lopsided smirk, “You heard him Hogshbottom. Show us yer feet.”

 

Hoggle spluttered, slamming his mug down in his outrage, the contents foaming up and spilling over the sides of the mug to drip onto the bar and floor.

 

“Damnit…it’s HOGGLE!! And doan say I didn’t warn ya…if ya doan fix it soon, yer gonna lose her and then where will ya be?! Where will _any_ of us be?!” he shouted, then stormed out of the pub, leaving his squad of soldiers still singing.

 

_“A wizard’s staff has a knob on the end,_

_knob on the end, knob on the end…_

_A wizard’s staff has a knob on the ennnnnnddddd!_

_What he doooooes with it is MAGIC!”_

Puck and Jareth watched Hoggle rush from the pub, then looked at one another and as one said, “Nope…not a Hobbitz…they’d never waste good beer.”

 

“Or bad,” added Puck, while Jareth drank the rest of Hoggle’s stout. “Are those yer goblinz singin??”

 

Jareth turned to look at them and roared, “ENOUGH WITH THAT SONG!”

 

The soldiers shrugged and changed songs.

 

“Sex rhymes…sex rhymes… Having sex…makin love…kissing…touching…naked hugs….” They shouted while waving mugs of ale around, much to the amusement of the other patrons.

 

Jareth groaned and passed out on the bar while Puck grinned inanely and bobbed his head, “Catchy tune…wonder if you can dance to it.”

 

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

**Author’s Note:** So there you go… a bit of silliness *lol* I love drunk Jareth, it cracks me up. And this will be the last time (for at least a few chapters) that the goblins will sing either of those songs (probably… Sarah might have something to say about that).  As always, please review. J


	4. Chapter 4

The last thing Jareth remembered was Hoggle’s face turning an unnatural shade of puce, as the dwarf yelled something. Then there were goblins singing that damn song of Sarah’s again then… nothing. Considering his age, Jareth really should have known better.  The ‘Coma Cocktail’ was named so for a reason. Not that it really mattered at this point, as it was far too late.

 _The ‘nothing’ part was good_ … he thought, before groaning and curling in on himself at the realization that thinking hurt -- So did breathing for that matter.

“Never…again…” he muttered tugging the blanket up over his head to block out the light streaming through the balcony door. He waved his hand toward the door, making the heavy curtains slide shut. Even the soft sound of the curtain rings gliding along the posts above the door made his head throb and scream painfully.

“We say that…every…time,” rasped Puck. His eyes were shut tight against the sun as well, while his hands were twisted into a plush blanket. Without opening his eyes he considered his situation. He remembered the goblins teaching him their ridiculous song which only infuriated Jareth to the point of getting into an argument with the bird that sat atop an old dwarves hat. Flashes of memory tumbled through his sore head, including the image of himself wearing a tavern wench’s dress and a dish-mop wig. “BloodyHell… what did we do last night,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jareth. The fact that he was now laying flat on something that appeared to be a bed, was both good and bad. Sure it was soft and comfortable, but he had no idea how he got there. For that matter, he wasn’t sure where ‘there’ was. Gingerly he cracked an eyelid and peered around, “Um… cousin…Where the blazes are we?”

Curious, Jareth too peered into the now darkened room, only to realize that he didn’t know where they were either. It certainly wasn’t his room at the Goblin Castle, not like he was in any state to transport them there last night anyway. He groaned as he shifted on the bed. Stretching out his leg, he was rewarded with a grunt from Puck as his booted foot caught his cousin in the stomach.

“Oi! Watch the jewels, mate,” grumbled Puck, kicking back at Jareth and catching him in the thigh, a bit too close to his own ‘little king’.”

“You watch it, cousin,” growled Jareth, before hissing in pain as his head was shot through with an electric pain that took his breath away.

The two fae lay on the large bed in the unknown room, panting softly as they fought back the various hangover symptoms common to the ‘Coma Cocktail’. Gulping heavily, Puck shivered as a wave of nausea hit him with the force of a cannon blast. Just when he thought he might have it beat, it escalated, sending him stumbling from the bed toward the doorway nearby, hoping that it led toward a toilet.

For his part, Jareth tried to lay perfectly still as he listened to the retching sounds of his cousin. Every breath jarred his body and made him wish for death.

“This is Sarah’s fault,” he gasped, as he tried to roll himself to a sitting position.

“Nonsense Jareth dear,” chirped Titiana as she swept into the room trailed by two of her ladies-in-waiting. The two fae males groaned at the overly loud sound of her voice and the sharp clicking of her heels upon the stone floor of the room, only to end up howling in pain when the High Queen thrust the curtains open once more, bathing the room in bright morning sunlight. “Your current pain is solely your own fault for being an idiot.”

Moaning as he pulled a pillow over his eyes, Jareth grumbled, “I thought mothers were supposed to be gentle… and soothing.”

“Yeah,” muttered Puck from the bathroom, where he was currently resting his forehead against the cool tiles of the wall, still sitting in front of the toilet, his hands clamped tight over his eyes. “What he said.”

The sound of Titania’s chiming laughter rang through the room, making both Jareth and Puck whimper in pain. “Mothers are only soothing and gentle when it is deserved,” she replied, waving her hand at the ladies-in-waiting who began to tidy up the room and lay out a table of food on the balcony. “You deserve all of the pain you are in for being idiots. You did this to yourself Jareth, and beyond all reason, Puck let you drag him along.” Titania reached over and jerked the blankets from the bed and shook her head at Jareth who cringed away from the light and the sharp voice of his step-mother, “You two are truly a sorry sight. Wal sent for the Palace Guard just after 13 o’clock saying he was worried that you were going to come to blows with a _bird_ Jareth. A bird sitting on some guy’s hat!?” she scolded, then peered into the bathroom at Puck. “And _you_! Dancing on the bar in drag?! Just be glad the guards that responded to the call took pity on you and dressed you decently. Had it been me, I would’ve paraded you home in that garish bar wench dress. Honestly! The pair of you should be _ashamed_!,” she continued, sweeping around the room to continue opening the heavy drapes of what Jareth now recognized as the private guest quarters off her suite of rooms within the Crystal Castle. “Now both of you…Up. Now! I want you bathed and dressed in less than twenty minutes. I’ve already contacted Vivienne and she is expecting you Above for the holiday season – both of you – since I assumed Puck would be glad to take a leave of absence from the Court for the festive season.”

“Thanks,” muttered Puck, who was wobbling on his feet as he tried to strip off his clothes in the bathroom.

Titania rolled her eyes and waved her hand at Puck, leaving him as naked as a newborn babe. “Up…bathed…dressed and fed…I refuse to send you to Vivienne looking and smelling like the pair of you have slept in the bog for the last month. I won’t have my friend questioning my parenting skills,” she snapped more firmly now, her violet eyes narrowing at the two bedraggled and severely hung over Fae. “You have an hour before Oberon will be returning to prepare for the first of the Yule festivities. If you aren’t gone by then, you won’t be able to make your escape for at least another day. So I strongly suggest you get a move on,” she added, before holding a small green vial out to Jareth. “And for the love of the Ancients, drink this, my son. You can’t arrive at your mother’s like this.”

Blearily Jareth blinked at it, then uncorked the small crystal vial, sniffing the contents. He managed a weak smile for her, “Thank you, mother. This will help,” he said, then poured the muddy colored contents onto his tongue.

“Give the rest to Puck, I’m sure he’ll need the help too,” she said, then swooped down and kissed Jareth’s forehead. “Happy Yule, my boy. Give your mother my love.”

“Yes, mother…and thanks,” Jareth said, his headache already starting to clear as he watched her poke her head into the bathroom, clearly nonplussed by Puck’s nudity.

“And as for you…do try to be a good influence on Jareth while you are Above. I don’t want Vivienne regretting her decision to host you both,” she said, then frowned, “And don’t go getting anymore Aboveground ink marks or piercings. You remember how Oberon reacted the last time!”

Puck had the good sense to blush at that and turned away from her, effectively hiding his pierced nipples, but exposing the ornate inked markings up the center of his spine. Like many things that happened when he and Jareth had started to drink heavily, they had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Yes, Madame,” he replied with a contrite nod, although his green eyes flashed mischievously.

With that, Titania swept from the room, trailed by her ladies-in-waiting, and leaving Jareth and Puck to the remnants of their hangover.

“For someone so petite and sweet looking, she can be positively evil,” muttered Jareth, flopping back on the bed and pulling a pillow over his face, while Puck groaned his agreement from the bathroom.

Jareth pulled himself to a seated position, leaning against the headboard of the bed as he listened to Puck cleaning up in the bathroom. Although Sarah had secured his vow that he would not spy on her, he _had_ gotten her to agree to having a contingent of goblins act as her guard – the only thing left was to figure out who to send. As he considered who to choose, Jareth’s lips twisted into a dark smirk. “Oh Sarah…Precious… You will _never_ beat me when it comes to this game,” he chuckled, then pulled a crystal from the air. “Hogsbum,” he barked, pleased when a surprised Hoggle looked into the crystal.

“Um…ah…yes…yer ah…Majesty?” stuttered Hoggle, fidgeting with the ring of jewels linked to his heavy leather belt. He hated it when the Goblin King contacted him by crystal, particularly when it was unexpected.

“Sarah has agreed to allow several goblins to act as her guard during her vacation. I want you to send Snot, Blot and Inkstain,” the Goblin King ordered, smirking wickedly at the stunned look on Hoggles face.

“But Sire… those three? They’re…they’re… idiots!” protested Hoggle.

At that Jareth’s smirk took over his face, the delight shining within his eyes. “Precisely.”

“But…yer Majesty…why them?” Hoggle asked with a frown.

“Are you arguing with me Hogswart? Are you suggesting that I don’t know what I’m doing?” Jareth snapped, his grin turning more evil with each new protestation from Hoggle.  “Just do as you are ordered, Hogsbottom. Send Blot, Snot and Inkstain to Sarah with instruction to stay with her and have _no_ contact with myself or the Labyrinth unless they think Sarah is in danger. Understood?”

Hoggle gave a defeated nod, knowing that protesting would do no good. The Goblin King had made up his mind.

Jareth leaned back and smiled, his fingers flipping the crystal into the air where it popped silently. “Oh yes, if Sarah thinks she’s won this round, she’s about to learn otherwise,” he chuckled to himself.

As far as Jareth was concerned, things were finally looking up.

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

The last time Sarah visted Great-Aunt Celeste was the Easter Break following her trip through the Labyrinth. It had been a lovely visit, her first ‘grown-up’ holiday without her parents lurking about. Tante Celeste had been marvelous the whole week. They spent days wandering in and out of the French Quarter and various touristy activities, and spent the evenings on the balcony of Celeste’s lovely townhouse right in the residential heart of the Quarter.  It had been fascinating to watch the tourists and locals crowding the streets in the evenings, singing and dancing. So, of course Sarah expected a similar trip this time.

If there was one thing she should have learned from her time in the Labyrinth, it was not to take things for granted.  Where her aunt had picked her up in her little red sports car on her last trip, this time when Sarah reached the baggage claim area, she had been met by a driver in a sleek black suit holding up a sign with her name on it. And the differences didn’t stop there. Instead of driving into the heart of the French Quarter, Alexander, who Sarah learned was Tante Celeste’s driver, turned the car out of the Quarter toward the Garden District. When that happened, Sarah was somewhat stunned. On her previous trip, Tante Celeste had driven her through the Garden District and the two had spent several hours admiring the huge ‘maisons’ with their ornate gardens and elaborate wrought iron fences. Celeste hadn’t made any mention of having property there, but sure enough, that is where Alexander took her.

After the lovely drive past the historic homes, their yards lit with twinkling white fairy lights, Alexander finally turned into the drive of one of the homes. There was a wrought iron fence around the property, with climbing roses covering it, their deep red blooms scattered throughout the greenery despite the chill in the December air. The house itself was magnificent, a large Victorian manor with turrets, bay windows and two wrap around porches, one on the ground floor and one on the second floor. As the car drove further up the driveway, Sarah saw that there were even three individual balconies on the third floor.

The front porch was draped with long ropes of pine boughs and holly, with each rope twisted with twinkling white lights that glittered in the twilight. On the front door was a large pine wreath with a red velvet bow. The bay window to the side of the front door shone with more white lights, wrapped around what appeared to be an enormous Christmas tree.

“Wow,” murmured Sarah as Alexander stopped the car and opened her door.

“Yes, Madame Celeste does love to decorate for the holidays. Most of the homes in the Garden District are dressed up for the celebrations,” he said, then pulled her bags from the boot of the car. “Follow me please, Miss,” he added, carrying the bags up the brick walkway toward the front porch.

Despite the fact that she had spent time with Tante Celeste before, Sarah swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. It was one thing to be staying in the French Quarter, with the casual lifestyle of the locals and the chaotic fun of the tourists, but staying in the heart of the Garden District was something else all together. Before she could even knock, the front door was thrown open and Tante Celeste had enveloped Sarah in a tight hug.

“Sarah, ma chère!” Celeste cooed, then held Sarah at an arms length. “Oh my…how you’ve grown. Such a lovely young woman,” she chirped, then wrapped her arm around Sarah and pulled her into the house. “Come in, come in. I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”

Tante Celeste was exactly as Sarah remembered her, petite, with shining blue eyes, and a light sprinkling of freckles scattered across her nose. Her waist length curly silver hair was twisted up into a bun and held with vintage crystal hairpins that sparkled when she moved her head. Tante Celeste was the picture of eccentric New Orleans society, dressed in a vintage Chanel pants suit, paired with a hand-painted, boho silk scarf draped around her slender neck. She spoke a mile a minute as she ushered Sarah into the house, her voice a gentle hum, heavily accented with the hybrid French-creole patois found so often around New Orleans. In short order, Sarah found herself being ensconced into a large bedroom on the second floor, the walls covered in velvet rose print wallpaper that matched the bedding. The furniture seemed as if it were designed for the room. As she looked around, Sarah suspected that each piece were as old as the house and cringed inwardly at being surrounded by that many antiques.

Celeste ushered

Sarah out onto the balcony that ran across the length of the second floor of the house, smiling broadly at Sarah’s stunned expression. “Welcome to Maison Porte Bleu,” she said, leaning against the iron railing and looking out over the yard and street.

Sarah stood next to her, peering at the twinkling lights in the trees. “I can’t believe this…this…is gorgeous,” she murmured, shaking her head. “But, you were living in the townhouse the last time.”

“Oui, cher,” Tante Celeste nodded, a flash of pain shining in her blue eyes, momentarily dulling their sparkle. “Once my dear Henri died, I could not stand to be that close to his beloved clubs. Day and night the music haunted me,” she sighed, then squeezed Sarah’s hand. “So, I moved back to our real home, here, ‘The House of the Blue Door’,” she said with a warm smile.

“Oh…I’m sorry, Tante Celeste,” Sarah murmured, only to have Celeste drape her arm around Sarah and hug her close.

“Hush bebe, there is nothing to be sorry for. I am happy here, it is where Henri and I started our life together, here in the house where he was born and grew. It is a comfort to me,” she laughed. “And you will adore the festive season here in the District. There are parties and outings galore for young people like yourself. You’ll love it.”

As they spoke a sleek grey limo turned into the driveway of the house next door. Without thinking about it, Sarah found herself following the slow progression of the car. The house itself was similar to Celeste’s, if not a bit larger. Their yard was filled with small twinkling lights hidden in the trees and bushes, while garlands of pine and holly bedecked their balconies and windows. In the middle of the front yard was a fountain with what appeared to be small fairy tale creatures cavorting around a central plinth with a clear crystal on top of it, from which the water cascaded.

“That is Maison des Fées.  My friend Vivienne lives there,” Celeste said, then peered around Sarah.

“Maison des Fées,” Sarah mused, mulling over the remnants of her French lessons from school, all the while  watching as the grey car pulled up at the front of the house, the formally dressed driver getting out and moving around to the back door. “That’s…House of the…fairies?” Sarah asked, finding her throat tightening up as her heart pounded frantically in her chest. “No…it couldn’t be…” she murmured softly to herself, her fingers gripping the iron railing tightly.

Celeste nodded as the driver opened the back door of the limo. “It is. Legend has it that there was once an active fairy ring in the back gardens, between the house and lake behind it. Vivienne’s family has owned it since the mid-1700s.”

Her heart still pounding wildly, Sarah watched as a dark haired man got out of the limo. Seeing the dark hair and lithe form, dressed in a black suit, Sarah felt herself relax. A second set of legs slipped out of the car, carrying another man with a similar build. Sarah blinked and bit her lip as she watched him unfold his body from the car and stand. His hair was pale blonde, cut short and spiky over his head. He was wearing a dark grey pinstripe suit that hung on his body as if it were made just for him – and likely was, she decided. He carried a walking stick topped with a shimmering crystal. At the sight of the crystal, Sarah felt her heart constrict in her chest. The two men walked toward the front porch of the house, then before stepping up under the awning where they would be hidden from view, the blonde man paused, his lips pursed in thought. Turning his head, he looked toward Maison Porte Bleu -- a pair of silver-blue eyes catching hers for a split second before he turned and walked into the house.

Celeste purred, “Hmm… Julien Vouloiroi  has grown into a very handsome man.”

“Julien?” Sarah breathed, still entranced by the sight of the man.

“You’d best be wary of that one, my girl,” Celeste chuckled, hooking her arm in Sarah’s and leading her back into the house. “Rumor has it that all Vouloiroi men have the ability to beguile hapless maidens. Mind you, I’m sure once word gets out that Julien is home for the holidays, there will be a steady flow of eligible girls coming to call, with their mother’s salivating over the idea of making a love-match into the Vouloiroi family.”

“Julien,” mumbled Sarah again, feeling as if she were in a dream as her great-aunt guided her down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Good gracious. Don’t tell me Julien managed to hit you with a whammy from that far away?” Celeste laughed. “What you need is some hot chocolate and a good meal. And it so happens that Esme makes the best hot chocolate south of the North Pole. And she has a big ‘ol pot of etouffee simmering for your supper.”

Celeste may as well have been speaking Greek for all Sarah heard at that moment, her mind was filled with a pair of steely blue eyes and a desire to hear him speak her name.


	5. Visitors and Visits

Although Jareth could have arrived at is his mother’s house in the Aboveground via the fairy ring portal in her back garden, it was tradition to announce the presence of ‘The Vouloiroi’ to those locals familiar with the true heritage of the family. Slowly his distinctive limousine would wind through the main street of the Garden District. Over the years, the vehicle had changed, from a distinctive black and grey coach drawn by a team of four white horses and led by a fifth that was as black as midnight, to a grey Rolls Royce with sparkling silver emblems upon it. These days his car of choice was a sleek, dove grey limousine, the front badge changed to that of an owl in flight.

Two days before Christmas, the Vouloiroi limousine picked Jareth and Puck up at the private airfield by the bay, then followed its customary path, slowly cruising past the primary gathering places of the four governing magical families of the city, before turning into the ornate gates of Maison des Fées. Arriving in the middle of the evening was important to the ‘announcement of his precense, gave the families time to nominate which of their members would be making the courtesy calls upon The Vouloiroi the following morning. As the car drew closer to his mother’s home, Jareth sighed, struck by the fact that he had effectively traded one set of elaborate societal rituals for another, although if the truth be told, he preferred his dealings with the magical guardians of New Orleans to the political intrigues of his Father’s court. The guardians here knew better than to cross him, whereas at Court, there were those who knew of his deadly nature, but when it came to advancing their own goals, they cared not.

Stepping from the car in the circular drive of Maison des Fees, Jareth breathed deep, drinking in the sweet scent of night jasmine and magnolias that hung heavily in the air. The winter had been mild in the south this year, with warm days and cool nights that failed to kill off the hardy blooms. As the scent of the Garden District filled him, he felt something he had not expected to, an odd tingle at the base of his skull which seemed to ripple up into his mind, while trickling down his spine like silken oil. Only one thing made him feel that way…one person really.

Sarah.

Turning toward the manor next door, he saw her, standing on the upper balcony with an elderly woman that Jareth knew well. The moment his eyes locked upon Sarah’s, he saw the confusion in their emerald depths, and without thinking about it, solidified the glamour hiding his true nature from the human world, while simultaneously letting his natural allure shimmer forth, knowing it would intrigue the girl and lure her to him. After all, she had said he couldn’t contact her. If she came to him, then he couldn’t be faulted for responding to her.

The question was not whether he would respond -- responding to Sarah was a given where Jareth was concerned, her very blood called to him following her win.  No, the question was not one of responding, but rather _who_ would respond – Monsuier Julien Vouloiroi, or Jareth, the Goblin King.

His lips curled as he kept her gaze for a heartbeat more, revealing the sharp points of his canines, before he turned and made his way into his mother’s house.

“Hmm…being here for the holiday season just became infinitely more interesting,” he mused, already pondering his next move.

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

“Jareth, darling!” Vivienne said, sweeping down the stairs of the manor to wrap her son in a warm hug.

Seeing his mother, Jareth dropped his glamour and hugged the diminutive woman, picking her up and swinging her around. “Mother! Still looking lovely as ever,” he laughed, kissing her upon each cheek and delighting in the chiming laughter that spilled from her.

“Put me down, charmer…you know your silken words don’t work on me,” she scolded, while kissing his cheek. Pushing silver strands back from her face, she turned and hugged Puck. “Hello Puck dear,” she said, giving him a squeeze. “I’m so glad you could come along for the holidays. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you two.”

Jareth cringed inwardly at her words, a sheepish smile curling his lips. “I do apologize for that, Mother…”

Vivienne linked her arm in Jareth’s and patted his hand with a loving smile, “Hush, darling…I know what your father is like. Yule Court is his favourite, I know,” she said, then took Puck’s hand in hers as well. “Now, come. We’ll have the lovely dinner that Serena has prepared and you can tell me all about the problems with your mortal girl.”

Frowning, Jareth looked at her while Puck snickered. “What did Titania tell you?”

“Enough,” replied his mother with a cryptic smile.

Dinner was a lively affair, as was usual at his mother’s home. A young woman with deep auburn hair plaited and wrapped around her head silently entered the dining room carrying a silver soup tureen. Seeing Jareth and Puck, her pale blue eyes flickered warily. “Go on, Rachel,” ordered the older woman who followed her, her own hair plaited tightly and wrapped in a bun high atop her head. The older woman bustled into the room, her blue uniform dress and white apron immaculately clean and pressed. “This is Monsouir Julien and Phillipe`,” she said, as the younger girl paused by Vivienne. “Crawfish chowder to start tonight, Madame,” she said picking up a silver ladle and waiting expectantly.

Vivienne nodded, “Yes, Serefina.”

The older woman ladled the soup from the tureen, then nodded to the girl who moved on toward where Jareth was sitting. When they reached Jareth, Serefina didn’t even ask if he wanted soup, she merely filled his bowl with two full ladles of the thick soup.

“What? No greeting? You don’t even ask if I want any of your nasty old soup?” Jareth teased, only to be swatted with a dishtowel to the back of his head.

“Bah… be quiet boy,” Serefina scolded, then hugged him tight as he kissed her weathered cheek. “S’good to have you home for the holiday, Sire. Now eat…I don’t know what those there goblins feed you in that castle ‘oyours, but it won’t be near as good as what you get here,” she said when he released her, then hastily straightened her apron before bustling around and filling Puck’s bowl as well. “And you there, Phillipe…don’t you go tormenting that young girl…I’ve warned her about you and your pranks. She’s a good girl and you’d best leave her alone or you’ll have Mama Sule come down on you. So be good!”

Puck grinned at her and nodded, his green eyes watching the young Rachel as she stood by the door with the tureen, her eyes studiously on the floor. “Ahh… so she is one of Mama Sule’s brood of youngsters?” he asked, giving Rachel a charming smile when she dared to peek up, only to blush crimson at his smile. Puck laughed as Serefina swatted him with her trusty dishtowel as well.

“Oi! I saw that,” she snapped, then swept Rachel from the room, muttering darkly about ‘tricky Fae’ and warning Rachel to keep her head down and get on with her work and not get caught up with Phillipe and his charms.

Rolling her eyes, Vivienne began to eat. “Don’t mess with Rachel, Puck. She is the eldest granddaughter of Mama Sule and I’ll not have you starting trouble with her congregation by tempting the girl.”

Puck sighed but nodded, “Fine…given her bloodline I’ll leave her alone. Although it’s a shame, she’s ripe for plucking.”

Vivienne’s crystalline eyes pinned him in his chair as they narrowed sharply, “There will be _no_ plucking of girls while you two are under my roof! Especially the girls associated with _any_ of the major houses of New Orleans. I don’t want Auberon here anymore than you do, but if you two even _think_ about making such troubles for the guardians, I’ll have no qualms about summoning him.”

“Relax, Mother…Puck will be a good boy, at least as far as the major houses go. He can go into the Quarter and have his pick of the tourists, how is that?” Jareth said, trying to soothe things over. “As for me, my girl is not related to the major houses, that I am aware of. Although I must say I was rather surprised to find her next door.”

“Next door? With Celeste la Fleur?” she asked, blinking in her own surprise. “Is she related to Celeste or her line? Surely would know if the girl has Elven blood?”

“No, Sarah is a pure mortal. Celeste is a great-aunt in name only. From what Sarah has told me, Henri Lafitte’s grandfather was saved by her great-grandfather in the Great War of the mortal realm, and the families have remained close since then. Upon Henri’s death, Celeste retained her bond with the Williams family. I suspect like many Elven expatriates, she will remain here until a suitable time has passed, then arrange for her own ‘death’ before returning to the Underground.”

Nodding, Vivienne laid her spoon down across the empty soup bowl. “Indeed, it is a shame the Elves do not have the same level of time-magic we do,” she said, wistfully looking at the oil portraits that ringed the dining room – pictures of the various human husbands she had taken over her 300 years of living in the mortal realm. Every 90-100 years she renewed the time glamour which allowed her to live freely Above, while Jareth retained his position as the Underground Guardian for New Orleans. The magic was costly, often requiring up to six Fae of royal blood to maintain it, given the number of documentation additions and changes that were required each time. Once upon a time changing the few public records needed and modifying the memories of mortals was an easy task, yet these days, with the advent of computerized documentation and the sheer number of people whose memories had to be modified, updating the time glamour was proving to be more troublesome. “With as difficult as it is to update the time glamour, I suppose I shall have to start faking my own death or hope that your father overturns my banishment and allows me back to the Underground.”

Jareth reached over, squeezing his mother’s hand as Serefina led Rachel back in to serve the next course. “We’ll face it when the time comes, Mother. You have at least another thirty years by the mortal clock, before we must decide upon the next ‘generation’.”

Jareth speaks to his mother… and admits that he was banished from Sarah, but didn’t know that she would be staying next door. His mother suggests he use this time to find out what Sarah wants.

The remainder of dinner passed swiftly enough, with Jareth and Puck relating tales about the intrigues and scandals of the Summerland Court, until Vivienne’s cheeks were red with laughter. When the last lashings of fresh cream had been scraped from the dessert plates, the three of them retired to the parlor, where Jareth finally unburdened himself to his Mother about Sarah, her refusal of him, and the vow she had forced him to give

“Clearly, Jareth…the fact that the girl is next door to you for the holidays is no fluke. The Fates are obviously at work here. The question is, how do you plan to woo her?” Vivenne asked, her tiny feet propped up on a tapestry footstool, her elegant fingers toying with the crystal glass of brandy in her hand. Her crystalline eyes watched every moment her son made, reading him in a way even Titania could not.

“I don’t see why I must _woo_ the girl at all, Mother,” Jareth grumbled as he leaned against the side of the hearth. “I offered her everything…including my kingdom and myself and she turned me down.”

Without a thought, Vivienne picked up a nearby cushion and flung it at Jareth’s head, where it thumped him soundly, before zooming back to her side. “Don’t be a fool, darling! She was but a child then, Jareth. As a young woman, she needs to be _wooed_. Show her that you love her for herself and not just for a physical dalliance. That was your father’s mistake, you know… he treated me as if I were his own private whore, good for nothing more than a quick roll in the hay before he went home to his queen. Can’t you see that by focusing on intimate relations with Sarah, you are reducing her in the same way.”

Jareth froze at his mother’s words, his own short-comings becoming crystal clear. “Bogdamnit…no wonder she is pushing me away,” he muttered, shaking his head as his insides felt chilled at the thought of how he had been treating her. “I didn’t realize….” He finally sighed, giving his mother a stricken look. “How can I ever begin repairing the damage?”

Vivienne smiled at him, while sipping her drink, “Well, you’ve got the perfect opportunity here, my darling. You could drop the glamour and woo her as yourself….”

“No…you don’t know Sarah. She would accuse me of planning this,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t come to her as myself unless she calls for me.”

“Fine, so you can’t come to her, that doesn’t mean you can’t send her messages and tokens of your affection… while wooing her as Julien,” Vivienne suggested. “Show her that you and Julien can be the same person, without her realizing that you _are_ the same person.”

Jareth frowned as he considered this option. “I could…but she will likely be furious when she realizes Julien and I are one in the same.”

“Hmmm, yes, she might. But if you do things right, by that point she will love Julien and see how much Jareth loves her as well, so perhaps once the initial fury has worn off, she will see that in you, she has both?”

Chuckling, Puck’s green eyes sparkled, as he peered out the large side window of the dining room, catching a glimpse of the dark haired object of Jareth’s obsession. She sat upon the side veranda idly staring toward Vivienne’s house, her eyes still glassy under the impact of Jareth’s natural Fae charm.

“Tell me, cousin… how have you visited the girl for years, and she has been able to turn you down given your natural ‘charm’?” he asked, sipping his drink and smirking inwardly at the sheepish look on Jareth’s face.

“I’ve shielded my true nature from her,” he finally replied, running his hand through his hair, unable to look at Puck or his mother.

Vivienne smiled at her only child, the warmth of hope blossoming inside her at his words. “You really do love the girl, Jareth,” she murmured, amused by the way he watched the girl through the window, his eyes alight with a softness she had never seen before.

“How can you know that, yet Sarah refuses to believe it?” Jareth muttered bitterly.

 

“Because I know how much power it takes you to fully shield your true Fae nature from her. There is a reason your father doesn’t bother, and beguiles humans to his bed, Jareth. For you to protect her from that, shows me that you value her,” Vivienne said, then rose and took her son’s hand. “Unfortunately, Sarah does not know the strength it takes and what you lose each time you do so…and it is not something you can really tell her. You must find another way to show her how you truly feel, my boy. Use Julien to make a start with her.”

Seeing how stricken Jareth truly was by the girl, Puck felt his impish nature prick. By foregoing Yule Court, he had thought his Yule season would be void of romantic intrigue, yet here the Fates dropped the best intrigue of all in his lap -- with the stubborn Labyrinthian Queen next door, there was definitely fun to be had…and even more happily, at Jareth’s expense.

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

With her belly full of etouffee and bread pudding covered with lashings of bourbon custard, Sarah tucked herself up in the plush bed of Tante Celeste’s ‘best’ guest room. Sarah had protested when Celeste bustled into the room and cracked the French doors leading out onto the balcony.

“That can’t be safe,” Sarah protested, while Celeste laughed, the sound a happy purring rumble.

“Nonsense, char!” she chuckled, waving her arm toward the open balcony doors, with the majestic trees towering in the front yard. “This street is the safest place you could possibly be. No one knows why, but there is no crime or danger on this street. Even during the war of northern aggression, no harm befell those who lived here, even when the areas around burned until the very Earth was scorched.”

Seeing the pinched look on Sarah’s face, Celeste flopped down on the foot of the bed and smiled, patting the girl’s foot. “I promise you, dear girl… nothing and no one would dare try to harm you. There are enough wards on this house and this whole street to protect you. So enjoy the peace.”

Sarah’s green eyes narrowed further, “Wards? Really Tante Celeste? Aren’t you a bit old for such things?”

Celeste laughed all the harder. “This is N’Awlins, char… the city was built on superstition and you’ll find they hold true. Easier just to go along with them…yes?”

Reluctantly Sarah nodded, her eyes darting toward the large window seat in the bay window that overlooked Maison des Fees. Following her time in the Labyrinth she had researched the Fairy realm as much as she could, and once Jareth had decided to insert himself back into her life on her 18th birthday, she had even gotten him to lend her more books on the history and culture of the Underground. Through her research she had found a fair number of references to wards against all manner of things – including those meant to protect. While she wasn’t sure she believed in them, after seeing the man next door, she really hoped they were true.

“You’re sure I’ll be safe?” she asked again, glancing toward the balcony doors once more. “I really would feel better if you shut and locked the door.”

“What? You think Julien Volouiroi will come creeping in your boudoir like some common thug?” Celeste teased, then smiled seeing the faint blush creeping across Sarah’s cheeks. “Ahh…perhaps you wish he were to come balcony creeping more like Romeo, hmm?”

“No!” squeaked Sarah, laughing while the crimson stain across her cheeks deepened. “Definitely not. Like you said, he’d have every girl in the district chasing after him.”

Celeste smiled, “So? Let them chase. The Volouiroi will choose who he will… why shouldn’t he choose you?”

“Because I’m no one. Just some student from Connecticut,” Sarah sighed, unable to stop herself from peeking at the majestic house next door.

Rising, Celeste patted the girl’s head, “Char…believe me when I tell you that you are far more than you seem. The right man will see that and cherish you for it.” Bending over, Celeste kissed the top of Sarah’s head. “Bòn nwi, char…fò bon rèv,” she added, patting Sarah’s cheek. When she reached the door she paused, chuckling, “And you can shut the door if you so wish, but I promise you bebe, you are safe here. No one would dare disturb the street upon which the Volouiroi lives, to do so would be very bad for them…very bad indeed.”

Celeste slipped from the bedroom room with those parting words, leaving Sarah wondering just how powerful Julien Volouiroi was. Mulling over the handsome man, she snuggled down under the covers, forgetting all about the opened balcony doors, as the image of the ethereally handsome man filled her mind. For a split moment she had been sure he was Jareth, the two shared a similar build, tall enough to be intimidating, but wiry instead of being muscle-bound hulks. It was the eyes that threw her. She’d expected to see Jareth’s mismatched deep blue eyes with the blown left pupil, seeing Julien’s pair of nearly silver-blue eyes surprised her. Once she’d seen his eyes, she was lost in them, barely registering the complete lack of arching eyebrows on Julien.

Oddly enough, knowing that Julien was not Jareth didn’t reassure her all together much. In some ways, Jareth would have been easier to deal with, after all he was a known entity. Julien was a beautiful man, but there was something more to him. Locking eyes with him carried a ‘weight’ to it that seemed to push heavily on her chest, her very breath locking in her throat under his gaze. She had felt that feeling only once before – the first time she had laid eyes on Jareth in her parent’s bedroom, all those years ago. The force of his gaze stunned her, but in the many times they had been together since, she had never felt it again, and had finally decided it was merely a ‘case of nerves’ as her grandmother would call it.

“Perhaps that’s all it was with Julien,” she muttered, feeling her eyelids droop as the mild winter breeze outside stirred the air, pushing a gentle hint of night jasmine and magnolia into the room. “I’ve just spent too much time with Jareth, so I’m out of practice dealing with other men,” Sarah mumbled, letting herself sink deeper into the thick mattress.

The sound of footsteps on the balcony shook her from her reverie, heavy lids lifting a bit as she peered toward the doors, the pale pink sheers fluttering gently in the night breeze, with only muted moonlight visible through them. Yawning once more, she smiled, her eyes starting to close once more until she registered something different now floating into the room, carried upon the breeze. The scent of night jasmine and magnolias was there, but it was now softer, with hints of pine and rain taking the fore. Puzzled, somewhere in Sarah’s sleepy mind she wondered if there had been rain clouds gathering, but she couldn’t recall. Then the footsteps began again, slowly, as if the person had all the time in the world. She saw a shadow pass behind the sheer curtains, yet didn’t feel the slightest hint of fear when they parted, revealing Julien Volouiroi.

He stood there silently watching her, his silvery eyes locked upon hers. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were expecting me, ma cher,” he chuckled, his voice a sultry purr that made her heart flutter. “How kind to leave the door open for me to… visit.”

Swallowing thickly, Sarah sat up a bit, heedless of the way the floral comforter felt to her waist. The cool evening breeze swirled around her, caressing her through the thin silk of her nightshirt, yet she didn’t feel cold, even as goosebumps danced up her arms and across her chest, her nipples budding tight against the now chilled silk. While she did not notice, Julien did, a slow smile curling the corning of his lips.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, ma cher? Unless I am _greatly_ mistaken, I believe you would like to become better aquainted,” Julien purred, his compelling eyes drifting from her body, back to her face.

“Um…I… that wouldn’t be a good idea,” Sarah mumbled, blinking her eyes to try to clear the fog from her brain. In the back of her mind something screamed out to her, some distant memory that begged to be considered. “Invite you…” she murmured to herself. “But…why….”

Seeing her mind whirling, Julien chuckled quietly, “Shh darling, it isn’t as sinister as one might think. A gentleman would never dare enter a woman’s boudoir within express permission. Invite me, cher…”

Sarah blinked at him again, feeling the warmth of his laugh spreading through her like a tonic, yet seeing the sharpness of his canines as she smiled made her shiver inside. _Vampire!!_ Screamed the little voice in her head. Taking a deep breath she was assailed by the scent of pine and rain, now seeming to hang heavier in the room, making it harder to shake herself out of this odd trance. “I… Celeste said… nothing could hurt me…here…”

“Sarah, I assure you, hurting you is the last thing I would do,” Julien said, his silver eyes flickering a moment, and in that instant appearing to be deep sea-blue, with mismatched pupils.

Gasping she blinked hard, then bit her lip as they were once more the ethereally compelling silvery color they had always been. She watched as he raised his hand, lightly caressing the bunch of mistletoe hung from the balcony doorway. “See, mon cher? Mistletoe protects you from those who with evil intent. It may be old magic, but in New Orleans, we recognize such things and respect them.”

“But you….” Sarah muttered, only to be silenced by Julien’s quiet, but oddly gentle smile.

“ _I_ have no ill intent where you are concerned. And I assure you, with me in residence, nothing and no one would _dare_ give you offense while you are here,” he murmured, his tone so reassuring that Sarah couldn’t help but nod, then flush as he stepped past the balcony door and into the room.

 _He sounds almost as protective as Jareth_ – whispered her inner-self, although it was as mesmerized by Julien as Sarah herself was.

Julien swept slowly into the room, his footsteps measured and sure, giving Sarah her first good look at him. He was wearing a pair of expensive looking grey wool dress slacks, and a crisp white shirt, over which he wore a matching grey vest. His short hair fell more casually now, framing the magnetic eyes set above elegantly swept cheekbones. As he got closer, the scent of pine and rain grew stronger, until it surrounded her like a blanket, warm and comforting. She felt her breathing grow slower the closer he came, until he sat on the bed next to her, reaching out and caressing her cheek with slender fingertips.

At his touch she shivered, a soft moan slipping past her lips. “You….I….I have… a boyfriend,” she whispered, even as he leaned in closer.

“Yet…you invited me in. Either he isn’t much of a boyfriend, or you are a naughty girl,” he purred, tilting his head and giving her a look that was reminiscent of a bird of prey, before leaning close to her ear and whispering, “I’m guessing he isn’t giving you what you need, ma cher. More fool him… Tell me…tell me what it is you wish he would give you.”

Unbidden she heard the word leave her lips. “Love,” she whispered, so softly the word was nearly lost to the breeze.

Julien shifted, until his lips were mere millimeters from hers, his silvery eyes locked upon hers until she felt she were paralyzed waiting for his next move. “Then love…you shall have, ma cher,” he whispered, before caressing her lips with his.

The kiss was unlike anything she had felt, even when the few times Jareth had gotten carried away and failed to buffer her from his magic. While Jareth’s kisses electrified and made her feel a surge of heat rushing through her, Julien’s kiss was gentle, but masterful at the same time, not demanding and showy like Jareth’s. As her eyes fell shut she snaked her arm around Julien’s neck, pulling herself closer to him, even as his own arm slipped around her back. She felt a moments pang of regret and embarrassment as she deepened the kiss, her lips eliciting a low growl from Julien, before a familiar electric sensation flowed through her. Opening her eyes she gasped, seeing Jareth kissing her. “Jareth?” she muttered, confusion etched upon her face.

“In the flesh, Precious…” he chuckled, then kissed her again, drawing a hungry moan from her lips.

“It’s a dream…”she panted, breathless from the soul-searing kiss.

“It is,” purred a sultry voice from her right, startling her.

Turning her head she had time to see Julien on her right, his arms snaking around her as he kissed her, with Jareth wrapped around her left side.

The two of them alternated kissing her until she was breathless and panting, her body shaking with a need she had never known.

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

Looking up from her book, Celeste frowned. A strange scent swept into the room from the open balcony doors of her bedroom. Breathing deep she shook her head. The smell was one she knew, yet she was puzzled as to why it was lurking around her house instead of Vivienne’s. In all the years she had owned the house next to Vivienne, the High King had never visited her home before. Rising curiously, she set her book aside before stepping onto the balcony, the scent of pine and rain growing stronger still,  mingled with something new… moonflowers. _Hmm…so this is not the High King, but is of his line_ – she mused to herself as she stepped further onto the balcony.

“Go home and leave my girl alone, des Fees… you have no power here,” she demanded, her tone low and steely, seemingly at odds with her frail stature. She glanced at the lit windows of Maison des Fees, then toward the shadowy figure lurking in the corner of the balcony.

“Unfortunately, there you are wrong, Madame Celeste,” Julien replied, stepping from the gloom of the shadow until his pale figure was illuminated in the moonlight. Celeste stepped back a fraction, clearly surprised to see who was lurking in the shadows. “I have prior claim upon the girl. Have you been gone from the Underground so long that you can’t see what is under your very nose?”

Celeste cursed under her breath, “No… I am aware there is a claim upon her. I just didn’t think it would be yours,” she sighed, glancing into the room where Sarah murmured softly in her sleep.

“You’ve beguiled her…” Celeste frowned, glaring accusatorily at him.

“Actually, I have not,” Julien said, drawing nearer the balcony door leading into Sarah’s room. “This house is not hers, therefore I cannot enter the room you have given her…at least until such time as she grants me access.”

“Thank the Gods for small mercies then,” muttered Celeste.

“Hush woman, I mean the girl no harm. The fact that I am in residence is merely a happy accident, as my Precious Sarah has forced my vow that I will not bother her during her holiday, and so…the Goblin King will not attempt to pursue his suit of the girl while she is here.”

Seeing the confusion on the old elf’s face, Julien smirked, “While the Goblin King gave his vow, the Volouiroi gave no such vow.” Celeste’s eyes grew stormy and she opened her mouth to protest, snapping it shut when his cold eyes met hers. “And _you_ , Madame, are bound to the Underground and my family. If you enjoy your life in the Aboveground, then you will keep silent on the matter and not alert Sarah to my true nature.”

“It’s wrong to toy with her emotions like this, Goblin King,” Celeste grumbled, moving closer toward Sarah’s room, until she was stopped by the firm hand of the Goblin King.

“She has toyed with mine for years, Madame.  Yet still I do not seek to toy with hers, merely to give her that which she claims I cannot give her – love,” he said, watching as Sarah shifted in her sleep at the sound of his voice.

Frowning Celeste shut the balcony doors, then turned toward the Goblin King. “If you love her don’t toy with her dreams,” she demanded, her thin hands on her hips as she glared at the Julien/Jareth.

“The dream is not my doing, woman, so save your ire,” shrugged the Goblin King. “I merely stopped by to check on her and found her dreaming, but the way blocked to me. There is magic afoot, but I assure you, it is not mine.”

Celeste’s face blanched at his words. Had her skills become so rusty that she could not feel unwanted magic in her own home? “But…I promised her she’d always be safe here” she whispered, only to find no comfort in the unreadable expression of the Goblin King. “Who would dare do such thing with the Volouiroi next door?”

“I don’t know, but believe me, I will find out. Go to your rest, Madame. I will see to reinforcing the wards on this house…personally,” he said, his tone dark and clipped, as he turned and walked toward the end of the balcony.

Without another word Jareth stepped from the balcony, his body shivering violently in mid-air, then with two powerful swipes of his wings, his barn owl form rose into the night sky to survey the property in the protection of his mate. Celeste watched him fly off, then checked Sarah’s doors once more before retreating to her own room, feeling reassured at the knowledge that the Goblin King would be protecting her property and all those that dwell within it.

Unseen by either of them, a faint red glow pulsed in Sarah’s bedroom, emanating from the pale pink poinsettia upon her desk. As the pulsing glow increased, Sarah’s panted, her body quivering under the sheet, until she gave a soft cry and shuddered from head to toe, her mind and body lost to the feeling of the two men wrapped around her, and the completion she found with them.


	6. Morning Meetings and Secrets Revealed

**Author’s Note:** Okay… this chapter starts my first ever fanfic cross-over and I’m a little nervous about how this is going to go down *lol* I’m mixing up two of my fav fandoms to see what happens. I’ve never written anyone other than Sarah and Jareth before, so this should be interesting. Please be gentle…and yes…there is a method to my madness (this story is plotted out all the way). And yes… there will be more UST coming soon, as well as some smut (yay!).

As always, please review!! J

Buried under the fluffy covers of the large bed, Sarah slept deeply through the night, images of Jareth and Julien caressing and teasing her filling her mind. Her sleep was so deep, that by the time sunlight breeched her blanket covered sanctuary, it was nearing midday. Cracking an eyelid, she yawned and stretched lazily, the covers shifting around her body until she could see the warm New Orleans sun peeking through the curtained windows and balcony door of her bedroom. Giving a particularly feline-esque stretch she rolled over, only to gasp when she saw the clock on the nightstand.

“Oh my! Eleven o’clock!” she muttered, fumbling to untangle herself from the sheets and blankets on the bed, as she reached for her robe, tossed across the foot of the bed. “I’ve missed breakfast,” she groaned.

Sarah tugged the robe onto her body, then gave her hair a quick brush, before dashing out the door toward the kitchen. When she reached the kitchen she was greeted by Esme, the willowy Haitian woman smiled at her, her gnarled fingers gripping a wooden spoon as she stirred a pot on the stove.

“Bonjou, Miss Sarah. Madame is on the east veranda,” Esme said, her soft voice lilting gently in the late morning breeze that gently fluttered through the kitchen curtains. “Go on and join her. I’ll bring your breakfast.”

Smiling, Sarah nodded and back-tracked through the formal dining room, onto the veranda that overlooked the Vouloiroi home. Thinking of Julien Vouloiroi made her heart beat erratically, while her cheeks flushed warmly, her green eyes glancing toward the house next door as if merely thinking of Julien was enough to make him visible.

Celeste looked up at the sound of Sarah’s footsteps on the smooth wood floor of the veranda. Her pale eyes took in the way the girl peered at the Vouloiroi house, a light pink stain creeping into her cheeks. “Bonjou, ma cher,” the older woman said, pulling Sarah from her reverie.

The younger woman bit her lip, as the blush deepened upon her cheeks. She tugged a chair out from the table and dropped into it, her choice of a chair facing away from Maison des Fees a deliberate move. “Good morning, Tante Celeste. I’m so sorry for sleeping as late as I did. I forgot to set an alarm last night.”

Shaking her head, Celeste poured the girl a cup of the rich coffee Esme was known for. “Hush child, you obviously needed the sleep. Besides, this is the Garden District char -- very few rise with the sun unless they have good reason to.”

Sarah picked up the cup and practically purred as the rich scent of spices and coffee surrounded her, waking up her senses before she even took the first sip. “What about you? When did you get up?” Sarah asked, before giving in and savoring the first sip of her coffee, a deep purr rumbling in her chest at the taste, bitter, sweet and rich all at the same time.

“Ah well, I’m an old woman, Sarah. I rise early to greet the day, thankful that I’ve been granted another one on this plane,” Celeste said, her pale eyes misting slightly as she gazed out over the lush gardens that surrounded the house. Waving her hand slightly, she returned her gaze to Sarah, smiling warmly. “Ahh…but don’t let the maudlin musings of an old woman sully your morning, darling. It is just that in the early morning, I feel closer to Henri. Nothing but an old woman’s silly notions.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Sarah said, giving Esme a happy smile as the Haitian woman slipped a full plate in front of her. “Thanks, Esme, that looks fabulous!”

Nodding silently, Esme refreshed Celeste’s coffee cup, before disappearing back into the kitchen. For her part, Sarah picked up her fork and regarded her plate with wonder. Sure, Karen made proper breakfasts for her when she was at home, but a proper breakfast in Connecticut was vastly different to the proper breakfast served when she visited Tante Celeste New Orleans. Her plate held a generous portion of a rice dish with peppers, onions and sausage in it, then topped with two fried eggs. To the side was a bowl of savory shrimp and grits, next to the bread plate which held two fresh beignets, dusted with powdered sugar. With a hungry groan, Sarah dug in, her eyes falling shut as she gave a throaty purr that sent powdered sugar floating into the air.

“I’m going to have to go for a five mile run every day if I continue to eat this well,” she giggled between bites.

“Nonsense, you’ll work it off wandering the city with me,” laughed Celeste, her pale eyes sparkling as she watched the girl enjoy her breakfast, thoughts of last night’s encounter with the Goblin King fading somewhat.

Knowing that he favored Sarah enough to see to her protection was a relief, although still somewhat puzzling. Celeste watched the girl eat, her mind ticking over what about her niece would have led to the Goblin King’s interest. Sure, Sarah was a lovely girl, with a lively personality, who made friends wherever she went. On top of that, she was clever, with a quick mind and the ability to solve problems others might struggle with. Yet this was the Goblin King…and The Vouloiroi, a man who could take his pick of any woman in the Garden District and any in the Underground as well – so what was it about Sarah that piqued his interest – especially since they hadn’t met…at least not formally.

Smiling warmly, Celeste decided that while she couldn’t tell Sarah of the Goblin King’s interest in her, he had not forbidden her to press for a reason for his interest. And while he had not been forthcoming with the details, that didn’t mean Sarah might not unknowingly shed some light on the subject.

“Did you sleep well, ma cher?” Celeste enquired lightly, her slender fingers toying with the delicate china coffee cup cradled in her hand.

At the mention of sleep, Sarah blushed, flashes of herself being pressed between both Julien and Jareth flitting through her mind. Coughing on a mouthful of grits, Sarah took a quick gulp of coffee and nodded, still spluttering a bit when she was able to speak again. “Oh…um…cough…yes…I slept wonderfully. Thank you.”

“No…bad dreams?” asked Celeste, bringing her cup up to sip it, all the while watching Sarah over the rim.

Sarah shook her head, her emerald eyes dropping back to her plate to spear another bite, “No… I mean…no bad ones at least. Lots of dreams though.” Glancing up, she registered Celeste’s interested smile and felt the flush creeping back into her cheeks. “Unusual…but…nice.”

Nodding quietly, Celeste smiled. “Ahh…I’m glad to hear it, char. I would hate to think you were plagued by nightmares here. Of course, if you were having bad dreams, there are people in town who could help with that.”

Sarah smiled and resumed her attack on her breakfast, leaving Celeste to wonder just what the girl had dreamt about and what magic had led to the ‘unusual but good’ dreams.

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

News of The Vouloiroi’s arrival spread quickly upon the first sighting of his car cruising through the streets. Within an hour of the first sighting, Liesel Jones, the personal secretary of Vivienne had received the first of many envelopes. Throughout the night the messages continued, some delivered by courier, others by a representative of the interested party, and even one even arrived tucked into a large potted poinsettia, which had subsequently found a home in the formal parlor at the front of the house. With her customary efficiency, Liesel accepted each request, and worked to organize them in the most fitting way, based upon the urgency of the request and the prominence of the person making it. By the time Jareth emerged from his rooms at noon, Liesel had been dealing with the request and list for nearly 12 hours straight, yet the diminutive woman still looked as if she had just stepped out of her room – not a hair was out of place,  nor even the hint of fatigue in her face or movements.   Knowing Liesel as long as he had, and understanding the protocols and hassles involved in preparing ‘the list’ upon the Vouloiroi’s arrival, Jareth sometimes thought the woman must have a backbone of dwarven steel. Thus, he was not surprised when he finally entered the conservatory’s glass walls for breakfast, to see Liesel going over the day’s agenda with his mother.

“Good morning, mother… and you too Liesel,” he said, brushing his short but shaggy hair back from his face, and tightening the belt of his black brocade robe. “I assume the three factions have made their requests for an audience?” he asked, settling into the chair to the right of his mother. As if by magic the house-girl Rachel appeared, filling his coffee cup, before slipping away once more. Jareth sipped the heady brew and sighed happily. His Elven chef at the castle could do many things, but replicating Serefina’s ‘Luisin’ coffee was unfortunately not one of them.

Vivienne nodded to Liesel, who folded up her notebook and disappeared from the breakfast room. “Yes, they were some of the first requests to arrive last night. Liesel has scheduled afternoon tea with them tomorrow, as none of them had any urgent concerns,” she said, going silent as Rachel reentered the room and settled a loaded plate in front of Jareth.

“Rachel, please tell Serefina she has outdone herself. My own chef could not create as nice a repast as she always offers,” Jareth said to the serving girl, his lips curling slightly at the bashful way she nodded at him before scuttling from the room. A moment later Serefina, swept into the room, sitting a bowl of fruit next to his plate.

“Much thanks for your compliment, Sire… but you know your own chef can’t compete with anyting I can do,” she laughed. “He lacks z’ skillz I haf learned from gran’maman.”

Jareth chuckled, winking at the old woman, “You’re right. You should come to be my new chef and teach the Elves a thing or two about Luzian cooking.”

Turning his attention to the plate filled with savory shrimp crepes covered in lashings of tasso sauce, Jareth missed the quick movement of the old cook. The next thing he registered was the sound swat she laid up the back of his head with her ever-present dish towel.

“Bah! You bad boy!” the old woman laughed. “You know ah can’t leave. What would your mother do wizout me?” Still cackling and shaking her head, Serefina muttered to herself as she returned to her kitchen.

“Just as well that she refuses your offer every time you make it, Jareth,” Vivienne chuckled, glancing up from the day’s agenda, her eyes shining fondly upon her son. “If she agreed to it, I’d have no choice but to have Titiania or your father put a stop to it. And you know how I feel about asking him for _anything_.”

Jareth gave his mother a cheeky grin and winked, before picking up a plump shrimp from his plate and popping it into his mouth. “Ahhh, but Serefina’s cooking would be worth it.” Seeing that his mother was no longer in the mood to be teased about her cook, Jareth deftly changed the subject. “So, has Puck surfaced yet this morning?”

Dropping her pen on the notes laying beside her coffee cup, Vivienne groaned, “According to Serefina, he was up at the crack of dawn pestering she and Rachel in the kitchen. I had to get rid of him once she started shaking her mojo bag around and threatening him with a freshly butchered chicken, so I sent him off to the farmer’s market and docks with Francoise.”

“I should have left him at home,” Jareth sighed, rolling his eyes at the antics of his cousin and the cook.

Vivienne gave a dismissive wave of her hand and laughed, “Nonsense, darling. Puck is always welcome and far better for him to be here than at court this year. From what I’ve heard, your father is still angry with him after the results from last year’s mischief.”

Before they could continue discussing Puck and his penchant for causing trouble, Rene` quietly entered the dining room, the butler’s formal black suit immaculate as always. “Monsieur Vouloiroi, forgive the intrusion, however Madame Tozin has arrived at the kitchen entrance and seeks an urgent audience with you.”

Jareth paused, his fork half-way to his mouth. Vivienne and her son glanced at each other, identical frown lines etched upon their faces. Putting down his fork, Jareth nodded to Rene`. “Tell Serefina to brew some of the special tea for Madame Tozin, then show her in. We shall chat here as it is urgent,” he said.

Rene` inclined his head silently, before moving swiftly from the room. Had he stayed a moment longer he would have seen Jareth’s body shimmer briefly, his brocade robe and pajamas replaced with an elegant gray suit, his Fae facial markings no longer visible. A minute later Rene` returned, escorting a small, round black woman, swathed in a white flounced dress, covered with a net of yellow lace, dotted with multi-colored beads.  Although she was short and rotund, Madame Tozin, colloquially known as Mama Sule, was a formidable woman.  Despite being mortal, Jareth had no doubt that she could wield power as great as his own on this plane – if she wanted to. However as one of the magical guardians of New Orleans, she had no real need to wield the amount of power she could, as just a small amount of her innate magic was sufficient to keep her flock of followers safe.

“Bonswa Maman,” Jareth murmured in greeting, his voice taking on the subtle twang of the local dialect. His keen eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her approach, before he gestured toward the chair next to his mother. “Please, join us.”

Even though her eyes were hidden behind the dark lenses of her glasses, he could feel the weight of Mama Sule’s gaze upon him. Vivienne smiled at her and nodded gracefully, as the willowy caramel-skinned girl following the old woman pulled out the indicated chair and helped the revered Vodou priestess settle into it. Once she was comfortable, Mama Sule gestured toward the door of the dining room with a wrinkled hand.

“Go see sister Serefina in the kitchen, Nadege. She’ll see to you while I chat with the Vouloiroi,” she directed the girl, then fell silent until Nadege had left the room.

With a flick of Jareth’s wrist the dining room door shut, leaving the three alone.

“Your grand-daughter has grown into a lovely young woman, Maman,” Jareth noted, as Mama Sule’s crusty demeanor cracked a bit from his compliment.

“Yes… she has her mother’s build, but she’s inherited my skills…tho she needs more practice before she could hope to take on my mantle,” the old woman replied with a proud smile. “O’course, if her mama had my senses, she would’ve known ‘bout de Bokor curse before it struck,” Mama Sule said with a sad sigh, then waved the thought away with a shrug of her shoulders.

 “Well, we’ll have to wait until September to see whether Nadege’s daughter will have powers such as yours,” Jareth added with a thoughtful nod. At his words, Vivienne’s looked at him, surprise etched upon her face, leaving Jareth puzzled at her reaction.

Mama Sule pursed her lips, as she reached up and pulled the heavy, dark glasses from her face, revealing eyes clouded over with a silver-white haze. “What did you say, Luten Nonm?” she demanded, her tone curt but curious, while her blank eyes glared at the Goblin King. “You be playing parlor tricks with my girl, telling me such tings?”

Shaking his head, Jareth turned his hands so both gloved palms faced upward in a sign of peace, “I meant no offense, Maman. I assumed you would know if one of your line was with child.”

The old woman blinked twice and turned her face toward the ceiling, while running the carved orisha beads around her neck through her gnarled fingers. While those outside the magical culture of New Orleans would see her affliction as cataracts, and therefore something to be fixed, Jareth knew better. Mama Sule was one with the spirits of the swamp and had been given a form of ‘the sight’ unknown in New Orleans for over a century. Soft words, foreign to both Vivienne and her son, spilled softly from Mama Sule’s lips.

“You speak truth, Voulouroi,” she finally muttered, a smile starting to curl the corner of her mouth. “The loa have been generous to my girl after all this time barren. Not one babe, but two – see Luten Nonm, the loa know things even Fae do not,” she cackled, turning her unseeing eyes upon the Goblin King, while his mother chuckled.

Jareth merely shrugged and smiled, “To be fair, I can only read the thread of life, and each child shares the same thread, it stands to reason I would only sense one.”

“Excuses…excuses,” chuckled Mama Sule, her shoulders rocking with her mirth.

The door of the dining room opened silently and Serefina drifted in, placing a pure white cup of tea in front of Mama Sule, before leaving as quietly as she had arrived. Not a word was spoken as the blind woman slowly stirred the tea leaves and boiling water in her cup, whispered words flowing from her lips in time with the faint chiming sound of her spoon against the china.  Jareth watched her, growing impatient at being kept waiting to find out what brought her to the manor.  Finally the old woman set the spoon upon the saucer and sipped the dark, fragrant brew, then put the cup back upon the saucer with a firm hand.

“Don’t you be frowning at me, Goblin King! I may be blind, but you know I still see! ” she said, her words edged with steel. “You be wondering what business would drag my old bones to dis house before the planned meeting. And you’d be right to wonder. But dis ain’t someting I want de others knowing ‘bout yet. It just between you…and me now, Luten Nonm. Understand?”

Having laid out her expectations, she sipped her tea and awaited his response. Her whole manner suggested that she was sure he would agree to her demands and no further negotiation would be entered into. Jareth however, knew how this particular political game was played. Leaning back in his chair, he surveyed the Vodou priestess with a critical eye. For her to come to him without the knowledge of the other factions, suggested that either she either needed his help, or had information important to his station. In all his years of knowing her, Jareth had never known Mama Sule to be unsure of herself, therefore it must be the latter.

“What is said at this table, will remain secret, you have my vow, Maman,” he said, inclining his head in a show of respect. “Although, I admit I am curious as to what would make you seek me out rather than Dada Antoine or Papa Xavier.”

Shaking her head, Mama Sule rubbed her chin with her fingers. “Naw… dis between us, Voulouroi. It concerns your peach orchard and de ‘special’ produce you been growing.”

Jareth’s pale eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at her, “I won’t ask how you know about that, since I’m sure your loa would tell you as my orchard backs onto your territorial swamps and would obviously taint the boundaries between our lands.”

“Bah, I doan care that you growing magicked fruit in your special orchard. I been knowing ‘bout that since you planted that particular section of de orchard. Why else you tink I let my people work that section? What you take me for? A fool?” she frowned, then rapped her bony finger sharply on the table, the sound seeming overly loud in the enclosed dining room. “But you best be knowing that some of that magicked fruit done been finding its way outta that orchard and into the tourist clubs in the Quarter,” Mama Sule said, then shook her head, wrinkling her nose in distate. “Dey mixing the essence of dem peaches with that stuff the youngsters call ecstacy. As if that drug wasn’t bad enough on its own.”

Growling in Goblinish, Jareth glared out the window in the direction of the peach orchards at the far edge of the property. He had moved the production of Goblin fruit to the swamp orchard, after several goblins got the bright idea to plant one of the trees there and it flourished in a way he had never seen. Once the special orchard section was built, he had taken great pains to ensure there were wards on the Goblin Fruit orchard to prevent any of the fruit going astray. Considering it took himself, his mother and Tatiania to set the wards, it would take powerful magic to circumvent them. At the thought of how much damage even a bit of goblin fruit could cause when eaten by mortals, he cursed again.  Mama Sule nodded as if agreeing with him.

“Yeah…I doan speak Goblin, but I’m pretty sure dem’s my sentiments exactly,” she grumbled, her frown deepening. “Problem is not just how the stuff makes the tourists feel and act, but that someone out there knows ‘bout your special fruit. I figured you don’t want de others to know ‘bout your secret orchard, so the last ting you be needing is dem finding out ‘bout this new drug and thinking it’s _you_ dat done created it or be selling it. Bad enough that the tourists be buying it up. But if de locals start in with it, you goan find yourself in a whole heap of trouble with de Brethren, as well as Papa Xavier and Dada Antoine.”

Jareth sighed, ignoring his mother’s concerned look. He had planned to spend his time Above wooing Sarah during the holiday season, not tracking down a thief and drug-dealer, but there was nothing for it. As the Voulouroi his first duty was to see to his business holdings and maintain his reputation as one of the four guardians of New Orleans – which meant sorting this mess out as quickly as possible.

“At least it is just the Goblin fruit, Jareth. So it will leave those who take it hyper-sexualized. In this culture, that is considered normal,” his mother said. “Far worse if it were Fae fruit.”

“True, Madame, but Goblin fruit can have unpredictable results when fed to humans,” he replied, cringing inwardly at the thought of how Sarah had responded to it – she was a prime example of just how unpredictable the results could be. She had just a bite of the fruit and found herself in a ballroom filled with debauched party-goers, it was only her innocence that saved her from the full effect of the peach induced dream. He could only imagine what effects the peach spiked drugs were doing to tourists who were already influenced by alcohol or other lusts.

“I will shut down production in the orchards today and will make sure the offender is found and _dealt_ with…severely, Maman,” he hissed, his voice rumbling through the room, as his magic flared in irritation.

Mama Sule chuckled softly. “I know you will, Voulouroi. I almost pity the stupid fool that crossed you in this way. My people know better than the cross the Voulouroi. He is not forgiving.”

“No…he isn’t,” Jareth replied, his pale eyes darkening as he glared out the window toward the orchards.

He would not let anything or anyone get in the way of wooing Sarah during the holidays.

**~‘*’~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~~J/S~’*’~**

Pushing her plate away, Sarah sighed happily, while she leaned back in her chair. “Oh my goodness, I need a nap now,” she laughed, patting her stomach.

Celeste chuckled and nodded toward Sarah’s mostly empty plate, “Don’t you like peaches dear? When you were little they were your favourite. These peaches are quite the delicacy around here. They are grown locally at the Voulouroi orchards down the road.”

At the mention of peaches Sarah cringed, wrinkling up her nose as her face seemed to pale. “No, I…ate a bad one a few years ago and have lost my taste for them,” she said, taking a big drink of her coffee to wash the phantom taste of Goblin peach from her tongue.

Tilting her head, Celeste watched Sarah curiously, then blinked in surprise. ‘It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Surely Sarah hasn’t eaten Goblin fruit?’ she wondered.

The bright chiming sound of the doorbell interrupted Celeste’s musing. From the kitchen at the back of the house she could hear Esme start to move toward the front door, just in time for Sarah to spring up from her chair, her napkin falling to the floor.

“I’ll get it!” she called out to Esme, while racing for the door – anything to get away from the subject of peaches.

Tugging the belt of her robe tight and adjusting the collar so that it fully covered her pajamas, Sarah pulled open the ornate front door, vaguely puzzled at finding three people about her age standing there. A blonde girl with her hair pulled up in a casual twist grinned at Sarah. She was wearing jeans and a tight red t-shirt that ended just above her belly-button, with a short black leather jacket over the top. On her shoulder she had a leather backpack, and a floral suitcase sat at her feet. Next to her was a taller man with short white-blonde hair that stuck out from his head in gelled spikes. He was wearing a red button down shirt untucked over what appeared at first glance to be black leather pants and Doc Martens. He too wore a black leather jacket, but his hung down to his ankles.  Lagging back a bit behind the blonde girl was a second girl, with long straight red hair. She smiled shyly at Sarah and waved her hand, while tugging at her plaid jumper and tights with her other hand.

“Um… hello,” Sarah finally managed to stammer. “Can I…um help you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m Buffy. This is Spike and Willow, my friends. Nana Celeste is expecting us,” chirped the blonde, shaking Sarah’s hand.

Nodding in confusion, Sarah stepped back from the door and watched as Buffy grabbed her suitcase and bounced into the house, with Willow right behind her. The two girls grinned at Sarah, while Celeste called from the dining room, “Buffy dear? Is that you?”

“Yeah Nana! We’re here!” shouted the blonde, dropping her suitcase next to the bottom of the stairs.

Sarah looked at the man still standing on the front porch, his eyes hooded as he watched the blonde, then turned his gaze to Sarah. She watched a slow smile tease the corner of his mouth, while Celeste came into the front foyer and hugged Buffy and Willow.“

“Oh it is so good to see you girls. My, you get prettier each time I see you,” she cooed, kissing them each and fussing over them.

With her hand still on the door, Sarah turned her attention back to the man with the bleached hair, her green eyes narrowing. “Well, aren’t you going to come in?”

Spike gave her a devious smirk, his lips curling in a way that reminded her of Jareth when he was having naughty thoughts. Feeling her heart begin to race she took in his startlingly bright blue eyes that twinkled merrily at her obvious discomfort and confusion.

“Love to pet…but can’t,” he purred, winking at her. “I’m a gentleman.”

From behind Sarah, Buffy snorted and Willow giggled.

“Hah! He wishes!” Buffy laughed. “Just invite him in so he’ll stop putting on airs.”

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when Celeste called out, “Oh come in William dear. I forgot you haven’t visited this house before.”

Spike curled his tongue around what Sarah realized where incredibly sharp looking canines and winked at Sarah once more, before strolling casually through the front door, only to be wrapped in a hug from Celeste. Sarah blushed, noticing that he hadn’t taken his eyes off her, looking at her in a way that made her feel quite exposed. Shutting the door, she pulled her robe a bit tighter and hung back, not wanting to impose on the greetings.

“Sarah dear, Buffy is my great-granddaughter through Henri’s side of the family,” Celeste said, wrapping her arm around Buffy again and grinning warmly. “She’s from California, but…”

“But we were in the area helping my mum get things for the gallery, and Nana asked if we had plans for the holidays,” Buffy finished for her, giving the older woman a squeeze. “So rather than spend the holidays in _boring_ old Sunnydale, we thought it would be far more fun…”

“You mean relaxing,” muttered Spike, which earned him an elbow to the ribs from Buffy.

“More _fun_ ,” corrected Buffy, “to spend the holidays in New Orleans.”

Releasing Buffy, Celeste clapped her hands. “Okay, Sarah, go get dressed char, we’re running out of time. Now that the others are here we need to get you kids down into the Quarter to the costume shop to get you all outfitted for the Victorian caroling party tonight.”

“Wh-what? Caroling?” asked Sarah, not only confused but starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. There seemed to be so much noise in the house now, and for some reason she kept having strange crawling sensations up the back of her neck when Spike looked at her. The sensation felt like an electric charge, that sizzled just inside her skin, running up into the back of her skull, almost like what she experienced when Jareth would arrive in her room wearing his Goblin regalia. Frowning she gave Spike a searching look. Could he be Fae?

“Go…go, Sarah. We are due at Petersham’s Masque shop in an hour,” Celeste said, shooing the young woman toward the stairs.

Sarah tried to avoid going near Spike as she went around the group toward the stairs, but it was impossible between the guests, Celeste, the luggage and Esme who came out to help with the bags. As she squeezed past him, he gave her another smirk. “Best get a move on, pet,” he purred, making her stomach give another lurch, the electric sensation intensifying in her skull.

Once Sarah reached the top of the stairs, Celeste herded the others into the dining room and dropped into her chair and smiled.“So, how was your hunting, ma cher?” she asked Buffy, as Esme brought in large pot of coffee and some fresh beignets.

Grabbing a beignet, Buffy took a mouthful and groaned, her hazel eyes falling shut in delight. “Hmm…sooooogoooood!” she mumbled around the mouthful of pastry and powdered sugar. Finally swallowing, she grinned sheepishly, “Yeah, we caught the Slytherac in the Texas Panhandle. It was nesting in an old cannery. Majorly gross and now majorly dead. Done. Finito.”

Spike rolled his eyes and stirred sugar into a cup of coffee, “So, who’s the Sarah chit?” he asked bluntly.

Frowning Celeste reached over and slapped Spikes arm, “Be nice, William. That’s Sarah, my grand-niece. She’s a good girl.”

“She reeks of Fae, she can’t be that good,” Spike grumbled with a petulant sneer.

“Fae?” asked Buffy, her eyes narrowing pensively. “You mean like that golden glitter fairy boy who was trying to unleash the end of the mortal realm using the demon disc from Ireland? _That_ kind of Fae?”

Spike nodded, his tongue flicking out to lick powdered sugar from his finger as he ate a beignet, “Yup. Glittery gits the lot of them. But a bit of steel will take care of most of them.”

Waving her hand, Celeste shook her head, “I doubt what you sensed is from her, William. Julien Voulouroi is in town for the holidays, we saw him arrive last night.”

A low rumbling growl hummed around the room, originating in Spike’s chest at that news.  “That sparkly ponce lives next door to you?! We should introduce him to Peaches,” he laughed, then grunted as Buffy kicked his shin hard under the table. “Ow! Come on… Luv. Tall dark and broody would love the sparkly fairy git.” At Buffy’s dark look, he grinned, “Okay, so they’d hate each other on sight, which would be highly amusing…for me. And I could probably win my money back from his mate, Phillipe in a friendly little wager over who kills who first.”

Celeste pursed her lips, glaring testily at Spike, “Play nice, vampire or I might just take back my gift.”

Hearing that, Spike’s hand went to the thin chain around his neck, his fingers wrapping possessively around a small clear crystal dangling from a fine golden ring. Inside the crystal, a swirl of blue could be seen, slowly spinning, as it gradually expanded to fill the crystal, then shrank down until it was barely visible once more.

“You enjoy the benefits of Fae magic, Daywalker,” the older woman warned him, her southern hospitality solidifying into an icy core. “And Fae gifts aren’t free… even mine.”

“Yeah well…Fae are tricky. And that Julien, he’s about as bad as they get when it comes to bewitching girls,” Spike countered, protectively looking at Buffy who glanced from Celeste to Spike, then shrugged and picked up another beignet.

“Meh…I’m immune to that stuff after my brush with Dracula and the Master. I turned _you_ down enough times too.”

Willow perked up, listening to the conversation with curiosity, “So, you mean there are more fairies in this world than the ones we vanquished in Ireland?”

Smiling warmly at the bookish girl, Celeste nodded, “Yes Willow dear, there are. And The Voulouroi is the guardian of the portals between the moral plane and the Fae realms. Despite what you may have experienced with the Unseelie you vanquished, The Voulouroi is actually not as bad as Spike thinks.”

“Hah! The glittery git is worse!” snorted Spike with a derisive sneer. “The only way he can get a girl is to bewitch her. I’ve seen him do it.”

“And you’re one to talk? I seem to recall you trying – unsuccessfully I might add – to enthrall me on more than one occassion,” Buffy giggled, then blew Spike a kiss and winked at him.

Ignoring the blonde Slayer, Spike looked at Celeste, his expression now grim. “Seriously, Celeste…Does Sarah know she’s been marked?”

Celeste glanced toward the door to the hall, then shook her head, “I don’t know. She may, but you are _not_ to mention that there are Fae living next door.”

“Why the Hell not? The girl’s got to know if she wants to protect herself!” Spike retorted indignantly, puzzled at Celeste’s cavalier attitude. “Come on, Celeste. You know just how dangerous the Fae can be to a mortal girl like that. Are you just going to sit here and leave her to them and their lusts?!” he demanded, exasperation evident in the way his blue eyes flashed feral yellow with his anger.

“Just…I need you to trust me on this. She is already well protected from them as far as she can be. Do not interfere, William,” Celeste said, her pale eyes glancing out the dining room windows to the Voulouroi manor. She could just see the pale blonde of Jareth’s hair as he stood on the veranda at the side of the house with his mother. Biting her lip she felt her heart clench as the Goblin King looked up in her direction, his eyes locking briefly on hers before she looked away.  The older woman gave Buffy and her friends a reassuring smile. “Trust me, Sarah is safe from any Fae who would seek to harm her. Buffy is immune to them and Willow has her own magic  to ward them off with. Everything will be fine and we’ll have a lovely holiday season,” she said. “I promise.”

In the end she wasn’t sure who her last words were directed to – the kids or herself.


	7. To Tell the Truth

Peering into her mirror as she finished pinning her silver curls into an elegant twist, Celeste couldn't help but smile at the peals of girlish laughter floating through her open balcony door, carried from the room next door that Buffy and Willow were sharing. As was often the case of Underground beings who fell in love with mortals, her marriages with Henri and her other mortal husbands were not blessed with children. While her husbands had not minded, in her heart, Celeste always felt that a part of life was missing. For the first time in 300 years of being Above, Celeste felt that her 'family' was complete – even if the youthful laughter was not from her blood borne children. Shaking her head at the girlish squeals and chattering, she pinned the burgundy velvet fascinator to her hair, adjusting the black and gold feathers to arc artfully over her head.

"Ahh Henri, ma cher, it is a joy to hear such sounds in this house after so long," she murmured, her slender fingers lightly caressing the small oil portrait of the only mortal man she had truly loved with her whole heart and soul. Blowing the portrait a kiss, she swept from her room, the satin of her bustle skirt rustling with each footstep. As she neared the door to the girls' room, she chuckled hearing Buffy huffing inside.

"I don't mind going caroling. And I don't object to corsets, but do we really have to wear the rest of it? Why the full Victorian get-up?"

"I don't know, I think it's kinda neat that they have a whole Victorian theme Christmas Ball. Besides, the dresses are are pretty," countered Willow, twirling in the middle of the room while holding her deep emerald dress to her front. Stopping suddenly, the petite redhead frowned, fine pearl teeth worrying her lower lip. "Tho, I'm not sure how to put it all on, even after the lesson at the costume shop."

"I'd be happy to help you with that, Red… although to be honest I was always better at getting Victorian ladies _out_ of their dresses…and _corsets_ ," drawled the blonde vampire lounging in the doorway, looking every bit the Victorian gentleman he once was – his legs encased in a carefully tailored suit of black, with fine grey pinstripes running through the fabric. The bold scarlet of his waistcoat offset the somber color of the suit, as did the matching cravat with a sparkling diamond and onyx pin that held it in place. Draped over his shoulder was the matching scarlet frock coat with the thick collar of black velvet. Knowing his past as she did, Celeste smiled, noting that despite the centuries, he still looked completely at home in the clothing of his original time.

Celeste bit back a laugh at the way all three girls shrieked. Yelping, Sarah clutched at the neckline of her silk robe and darted into the bathroom.

"Out!" ordered Buffy, hurling a hairbrush at his head.

"Spike!" wailed Willow, as she followed Sarah into the bathroom.

"Can't blame a guy for wanting to help a group of lovely ladies out," he chuckled, strolling slowly down the hall, as Buffy lunged for the door and locked it.

"Bloody nervy vampires," she muttered, only to blush as Sarah and Willow peeked out of the bathroom.

"Vampires?" asked Sarah, her green eyes blinking pensively.

Swallowing Buffy laughed nervously and shrugged. "Yeah…just a little pet name of sorts."

Celeste peered through the lace curtains, surprised when Sarah arched an eyebrow and gave Buffy a look that was eerily similar to the coolly aloof look favored by the Goblin King. Shaking her head, she left the girls to get ready and made her way down the outer stairs to the parlor. She had things to think about – not the least of which was the wisdom of having a vampire (even a tame one) in the house, knowing that the Goblin King had an interest in one of the girls who was also in residence – and there was no love lost between Spike and the Goblin King.

"Ah Henri… I think this shall be quite the interesting holiday season, no?" she murmured to the large portrait of her late husband as she leaned against the marble of the mantel.

** *~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~* **

"Jareth! The caroling party should be starting shortly," Vivienne chirped, sweeping into his rooms at Maison des Fees. Frowning at the sight of the empty room, with two immaculate suits of men's clothing laid out on the bed, she peered around, only to jump slightly when her son appeared in the middle of the room, his shirt torn and smeared with dirt. "Gaswint's whiskers, Jareth! What have you been doing?" she demanded, rushing toward him.

Waving his mother off as she tried to check him for wounds, Jareth turned and entered his bathroom. "Don't fuss, mother. I was taking care of business… nothing more."

Still frowning, Vivienne followed him, peering into the door of the bathroom, her crystalline eyes narrowing at the sight a bruise forming on his cheek. "I was afraid you were going to miss the Christmas Eve ball tonight, which would have been a problem after you made your presence known last night."

"Everything is under control, mother. You can relax," he sighed, gingerly touching the blossoming purple smudge along his cheekbone. A faint hum of magic filled the air, then the mark slowly faded until his skin was once again like alabaster. "Puck and I were dispatching the gang members who were poaching the goblin fruit."

With a tinkling sound of fairy chimes, a disheveled Puck appeared in the room, his dark hair falling in damp wisps across his forehead and cheeks. "Did you get the last one, Jareth?" he panted, wiping his shirt sleeve against a bleeding scratch on his cheek.

"I dealt with the two who ran for the storage shed," Jareth called from the bathroom, tugging torn and dirty shirt over his head and dropping it, only to have it vanish before touching the polished floorboards.

"Puck! You're bleeding!" Viviene gasped, rushing forward to examine the cut. "It wasn't iron was it? Do we need to send for Avanna?"

"It's okay, just a tiny scratch by a finger nail. Not a weapon. The girl of the gang put up more of a fight than I was expecting," Puck said with a grin, his green eyes flashing merrily. "Exhilarating, wasn't it,Jareth?"

Rolling his eyes at his cousin, Jareth stalked from the bathroom, his chest and shoulders glistening with water drops, and a towel hooked low around his hips. A snap of his fingers brought another towel to his hands, which he ran briskly over his damp head. "You may have found it exhilarating, Puck, but as far as I'm concerned, it was a waste of my precious time with Sarah." Grabbing the towel from his hands, Vivienne briskly wiped the water drops from his shoulders, until he waved her off with a huff, "Stop fussing mother. We're fine." Jareth shrugged away from his mother and dropped the towels on the foot of the bed, before picking up the woolen trousers laid out for him and beginning to tug them on. "I found who was sneaking the fruit from the orchard and 'plugged' that particular hole. Puck tracked down the gang of thugs who were infusing the peach juice into their pill supply. Flavoring. Can you believe it?! The idiots didn't know the peaches held power, they only thought they were unique and guarded for their taste," he groused, while Puck magically cleaned himself before starting to pull on a similar pair of black wool trousers.

"I can," Puck replied, shaking his head in disgust as he adjusted himself into the tight breeches up his legs, completely nonplussed by the presence of Jareth's mother and his own half-naked state. Tugging on a cream silk shirt, Puck deftly buttoned it before pulling the emerald colored silk cravat around his throat and pinning it in place with a ruby tack."Luckily the thugs lacing the pills with the peach essence were influenced by it themselves, so that made capturing them easier."

"What of the one that escaped, Jareth," Vivienne asked, dropping gracefully onto the foot of his bed and watching her son pull on his own Victorian clothing, in rich shades of black and deepburgundy.

"We will have to continue searching for him," Jareth grumbled, as he fastened a golden pocket watch to the watch clip on his black and burgundy brocade waistcoat. "The pill supply was destroyed, but there is no way to tell how many of the tainted pills are on the streets already. We'll have to try to find the lower-level dealers next. I tried using magic to call the pills to me via their peach essence, but there isn't enough of the essence in each individual pill to react to my magic." Twisting the silk of his cravat, Jareth inserted a diamond pin into it, leaving his hair short and spiky around his face. "For now, I only want to think of one thing… wooing Sarah. So no more questions of the problems with the peaches. Nothing else."

Before the words had faded from the air, an electric tingle shivered up Jareth's spine, settling at the base of his skull with a nagging intensity. Groaning he ran his hand irritably through his hair, until it stood wildly from his head. "I am clearly Fate's whipping boy," he muttered, the air around him visibly shimmering with golden haze as the Victorian gentleman's clothed slowly vanished, to be replaced by the thick dragon-hide leather of the Goblin King's formal regalia.

"Oh no, Jareth… a wisher?" Vivienne sighed, her pale features pinched with disappointment.

"I'm afraid so, mother. Duty calls." Leaning over, Jareth kissed his mother's forehead, gently patting her cheek. "I'll get the runner started, then return to the party and leave Sir Didymus to supervise proceedings in my absence. The Christmas Eve calls are usually short, being based on the desperation of the wisher's circumstances. I doubt I'll be gone long." Rising, Jareth gave Puck a steely look, the steeply arched eyebrows narrowing. "Be good, cousin. Don't meddle with Sarah when the carolers arrive at the house."

"Why cousin… I am hurt that you would think…." Puck began, only to be waved to silence by the Goblin King.

"Think? I _know_ what you are like, Puck. Stay away from her. That's an order."

Puck laughed, shaking his head. "And since when do I take orders from you? Or are you pulling rank – Princeling?"

Shrugging Jareth's form began to fade. "If that is what it takes to keep you in line, then that is what I must do."

** *~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~**~J/S~* **

Unseen by mortal eyes, three small figures huddled behind a large poinsettia pot on the upper balcony of Maison Porte Bleu. Feral golden eyes peered over the balcony as Sarahbounced down the front steps, the satin of her sapphire colored dress, rustling in the crisp winter air. Laughing gaily, she turned to look over her shoulder, huddling deeper into the black wool cape that covered her, her hands encased in a thick muff of black velvet, filled with soft fur. Behind her the redhead giggled, carefully picking her way down the steps in a dress the color of the pine trees the humans liked to decorate in the winter. Then there was the pretty blonde girl, wrapped in a black cape, her scarlet dress peeking from underher heavy wool cape. As far as Blot, Snot and Inkstain were concerned, it was a good night to be curled up in a dark corner of the castle with a couple of mugs of goblin ale and a big plate of Gripsnat wings to gnaw on – it was _not_ a good night to be out and about, much less wandering about the chilly streets of the Garden District.

But they had orders. And when the King gave an order, there were penalties for disobeying – Although, at the moment Blot was quite sure that a swim in the bog would be far warmer than hanging about on the balcony, being pelted by the cold Christmas breeze that whipped through the trees and mansions along the street.

"Come on… we gotta follow 'em," he said, elbowing Snot and nearly knocking the skinny goblin from their perch. All three goblins growled softly as the blonde man in the scarlet coat followed the girls down the stairs. They liked the girls, especially the Sarah girl, but that man set their hackles up. Pushing the tea cozy hat he wore back from his eyes, Blot growled as he watched the strange smelling blonde man catch up with the girls, and wrap his arms around the one called 'Buffy' and her redheaded friend.

Not letting the group of girls and the strange man who smelled heavily of iron to leave their sight, the three goblins swiftly climbed down from their perch and scampered through the underbrush after them, their voices sounding to mortal ears, like the rustling of the breeze through the trees.

"King said to tell him if the Sarah was in danger….Yup…yup…gotta follow 'em. Be good watchers. Make King happy…."

Down the street they followed the three girls and the blonde man, until they turned down something the blonde called a 'shortcut to the Beaudreax house'. Blot's nose wrinkled when he heard that. He wasn't the brightest goblin, but he knew that shortcuts usually meant trouble – especially in the Labyrinth, where a shortcut could take you hours out of your way, with at least two near misses of being dumped in the bog and a run in with the fireys.

"Shortcut… bad idea," wheezed Inkstain with an incredulous look on his muddy orange face. Clutching at the red mitten he wore on his head, he shook his head and blinked at Blot. "Doan the Sarah Lady know anything?!"

Frowning, Blot nodded his agreement with his brother, then hurried along after the group. The three small goblins hastily rounded the corner to follow before stopping suddenly, struck dumb by what they saw. A thin man in a dirty overcoat was holding the Sarah tight, his face a sickly shade of grey, with glowing golden eyes – most shocking to the little goblins werethe strange ridges across his forehead, along his cheeks and down his nose. Then of course, there were the fangs.

"The Slayer is mine!" cackled the bumpy-faced man.

As one the goblins growled, but made no move forward. They had instructions to watch the Champion and tell the King if she were in danger, but they felt the wish call earlier and knew he was busy. Goblins might be wild creatures, but when they had a task, they did it to the letter. They knew their instructions. And they knew the penalty for disturbing the King when he was with a wisher. Nothing in their experience prepared them for a situation like this, so they did all they could do – they continued to watch.

Spike rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a malicious sneer. "Stupid fucking fledgling. That isn't the Slayer."

The bumpy-faced man blinked his golden eyes and looked from Sarah to Spike. "Huh…what?"

Giggling Buffy waggled her fingers at thevampire holding Sarah. "Hi. You must be new to to the whole vampire gig. I'm Buffy," she chirped with a tilt of her head. "And I'm the Slayer. The Chosen One. She who eats idiot fledgings for breakfast…."

He blinked again. "Wait…what…you eat…?"

"Figure of speechyou prat," Spike growled, his face rippling until he too had ridges running across his forehead and down his nose, while thick, wickedly sharp fangs slid out of his upper jaw. "Only a stupid fucking fledge would try to take on the Slayer, when she's out on the town with the Slayer of Slayers."

"Maybe his Sire didn't teach him?" suggested Willow, her green eyes scanning the area in case the fledgling had 'friends'.

Spike glanced at her and laughed. "Seriously, Red? What next? You wanna start up a Fledgling Vampire Mentoring Program or sumthin?"

Clearing her throat, Sarah squeaked as she felt the vampire holding her lean in closer to her throat. "Um…hello… could you um…discuss that later. Like… when I'm not about to become a vampire snack?!"

"S'ok Sarah…we've got this," Buffy said, calmly pulling what appeared to be a wooden stake from the depths of her furry hand muff. "You just play it cool. I'll take of the fledge, then we can head off for carols and hot chocolate."

Grinning, Spike winked at Buffy, his fangs glinting in the light of the streetlamps. "Don't forget the tiny marshmallows."

"Can we not talk about hot drinks while I've got a vampire at my throat looking at me like I'm going to be _his_ next hot drink?!" muttered Sarah. A moment later she felt the first sharp nick of the vampire's fangs, and her body went rigid.

As a small spot of red welled up on Sarah's throat, a menacing growl from the small goblins echoed through the area, sounding for all the world like a pack of feral dogs. Before Buffy or Spike could react, a shimmering blue aura surrounded Sarah, chilling the area even further. When the blue aura faded, Sarah calmly stepped away from the now frozen vampire, then blinked in confusion, looking from the icy vampire to Buffy, then back again. "What the…."

"Nice powers there, Sarah," Spike said with a soft whistle. "Remind me to stay on your good side, yeah?"

Buffy's skirts rustled and swished as she walked past Sarah and casually slammed the wooden stake into the frozen vampire's heart. A popping sound shattered the silence, then the vampire exploded in a plume of ash and dust. "I suppose I could make a joke about the fact that vampire skin is cold and their hearts are frozen?" Buffy sighed, brushing vampire dust from her satin skirt.

Wide-eyed, Willow crept close to her friends again and smiled at Sarah. "Wow. Are you a witch too? I mean, my powers are nothing like that, but..wow."

"Witch? Me? No…no," muttered Sarah, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. "I… well, it's kind of a long story and you probably wouldn't believe it anyway."

A low rumbling laugh echoed from Spike's chest, as he wrapped his arm around Buffy's back. "Sweetheart, you've seen me fang out and discovered that Buffy here is a vampire Slayer…"

"Not _a_ slayer...  _the_ Slayer," interrupted Buffy with a grin, as she tucked the stake back into her fur-lined muff.

"Fine… _the_ Slayer," chuckled Spike, tucking Sarah's arm into his free arm. "The point is, considering the stuff we've seen and likely vanquished, your story can't be too far-fetched."

"Yeah, dish," giggled Willow, linking her arm with Sarah's other arm. "What gives with the fancy freezing?"

Smiling shyly, Sarah let herself be dragged down thealley toward the Beaudreaux mansion. "Well, let me tell youa little tale about a Fae King who thought he loved a mortal girl so much so, that he gave her certain powers."


End file.
